


MARKED

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Series: Marked and Branded [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Attempted Rite of Tranquility, Canon Divergence, Comedy, DLC Spoilers, Diplomacy, Drama, Echo Has a Past, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mage Abuse and Oppression, Mage-Templar War, Modern Girl in Thedas, Plot Twist, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Suspense, The Herald Isn't the Herald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 104,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident has far reaching consequences that Echo Harper could not have foreseen. Plunged into a world so different from her own, Echo finds her at the epicenter of war between mages and templars. And finds that she may be tied the fate of Thedas more than she could have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing from Dragon Age. BioWare owns Dragon Age, not me. This is for amusement purposes only, and to help me expand upon my writing. I hope that you all enjoy.
> 
> Inspiration: I’ve seen several self inserts where the character knows all about Dragon Age, and the truth behind everything. I love those fics, but I really wanted to make an OC who doesn’t know anything about DA universe. Someone who is forced to adapt to a world and environment that she has never known.
> 
> And here is the Tarot Card I drew for Echo Harper signifying the beginning of her journey. Other Tarot Cards will follow.
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152592576@N08/831bry)  
>  
> 
> This card is the "Two of Cups": By its image, the Two of Cups almost always suggests a relationship between two people. Indeed, this is the primary meaning of the card and the one that appears most often in readings. Before we can truly love another we must learn to love ourselves, to love and accept all of the different (and often conflicting) facets of the gemstone that makes up our personality.
> 
> * * *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echo has a bad feeling about the Conclave.

* * *

MARKED 

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly 

Part One in the Marked Series

* * *

_Dirthavaren, Da’len._

The promise, child.

 _Do not stumble. Do not falter. Do not forget. Remember your promise. Flashes of crystals spires, of silver trees and the streets paved with magic spun all around her too fast for her to grasp and see. Her breaths came in swift gasps, and ghostly images of people rushed by her, knocking into her. She fell to her knees, arms clutched around her stomach as pain burned against her skin._

_Telanadas, fen’nas._ Nothing is inevitable, wolf soul. 

_Her eyes tried to focus, but it was too much. There were too many sounds, too many sights, and too many smells. The magic that crackled through the air sent her entire body into a sensation overload that was borderline on agonizing and she felt like she was going to lose her mind. “Garas quenathra?” Words she didn’t even understand fell from her lips, and a coppery scent filled the air. With a gasp, she looked down to see blood sliding between her fingers. “Garas quenathra? Na mara san?” This time the words came out with more panic and desperation. (Why are you here? Why have you come? Where is this…?)_

_She heard Ravens cawed as they circled her from above like an ominous omen of doom._

_Fen'Harel ma ghilana. Ar lasa mala revas._ Dread Wolf guides you. You are free. 

_The walls came crashing down, and the crystals lost their luster as the ghosts became to scream. Red blood stained the ground, and began to rise up like a great ocean. She was helpless against the tide._

_Ma’lin. Mala’lin._ My blood. Your blood. 

_“Mana! Mana!” (Stop! Stop!) She screamed at the top of her lungs, but the blood keep rising. It surrounded her, grabbed at her, and started to drag her below. As she choked on the blood, a wolf’s mournful howl echoed…_

_Mala suledin nadas._ Now you must endure. 

And Echo Harper awoke in a cold sweat. The cold breeze entered through the cracked window and poured into the cabin where she laid upon the broken down cot. There was faint smell of mud and elfroot in the air that one became accustomed to over time. She ran her palms down her face, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath before she threw the blanket (and she used that term loosely) off of her. 

She shivered when her feet hit the bare floor of the cabin, and ran her finger nervously through her hair. For as long as she could remember, Echo had been a rather lucid dreamer even though that term didn’t even come close to describing how she dreamed. Even lucid dreamers couldn’t control their dreams on the level that she could. She cherished her dreams, her sanctuary and that had been taken away when she had come to this place. 

Oh, not Haven specifically. She meant the world in Thedas in generally. That’s right, Echo Harper was not of this world. Five years ago, she had been in a dead end job in a small town in southern Indiana. Five years ago, she had been a normal person with no magical talent whatsoever. Five years ago, she had been human, not an elf. Five years ago…well, you get the point. A heavy sigh fell from chapped lip and as tempting as it was to close crawl back into her bed, she had things she needed to do today. 

Echo walked over to the vanity. The mirror was old, and had splotches in it. A series of tiny cracks trailed down from the top left side all the way down to bottom, and she absentmindedly allowed her fingers to trace it before her gaze flickered to her reflection. Long, dark brown waves framed a slender oval shaped face with a pointed chin, and soft cheek bones. Her nose was a long, aquiline nose that was tip was slightly wider than the top and her skin was held just a hint of color. It seemed no matter how long she was under the sun, she would never tan. 

But the most striking feature, were her eyes. A mismatched pair, one blue as the thunder clouds and the other green as the deep sea. “Ghost eyes,” her grandmother used to tell her. “That’s what the Native Americans called it.” 

Echo pulled on her red tunic and black leggings, opting to leave her armor off for today. She didn’t want to draw more attention than necessary from templars or mages. After she pulled on her boots, she twisted her hair up into a loose bun when a groan came from the other bed. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” Echo teased, with a big grin. 

Flissa made a noise of disgust as she popped her head out from underneath her blanket. Her brown hair was sticking up in all kinds of directions, and her eyes were barely open. “How can you be so jovial in the morning?” The barmaid demanded, her voice rough with sleep and most likely a hangover. She liked to “test” the merchandise occasionally to make sure it was good quality. 

“Lots and lots of practice,” Echo replied, easily. She wasn’t normally a morning person, but with last nights dream…she repressed a shudder. It wasn’t that she wanted to get up, but she did not wish to let her mind linger on them anymore than she had to. Her tongue ran along the sharp tip of her one of her canines then across the bottom of her front teeth in quiet aggravation. Her nightmares had been getting worse and stranger which was something considering the Fade was like the hellish version of Wonderland on its worst night. Usually spirits would sit on the edge of her dreams, like curious children peeking in. Only one of two attempted to interact, and they were more wisps than a fully formed spirit. 

The demons were few, which with all the horror stories was surprising. Perhaps her exceeding lack of talent with her magic made her undesirable to them, and they did not want to waste the effort. Echo was quite happy to let things stay that way, to be perfectly honest. Even if they did try, Echo had worked out a system long ago to keep such things away from her body and soul. “What?” Echo blinked, when she realized that Flissa had said something. 

“I asked,” Flissa sighed, and shoved off her blankets. She walked towards the dresser to retrieve her clothing and looked at Echo out of the corner of her eye. “How are you coping?” 

For a moment, Echo just stared. “Coping…with what exactly?” Her eyebrows crept upward slowly, and her head cocked to the side. 

Flissa glanced at the door as if she were afraid someone was listening in, and then whispered underneath her breath, “About the templars.” 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Echo said, with a slow understanding nod. “I guess? I haven’t really dwelled on it much. All mages are apostates now, so I am not technically doing anything against the law. At least not anymore, and it’s not like I’m running around using blood magic or something. Though I’m not exactly advertising that I’m a mage, either.” 

Flissa just gave a small laugh, and shook her head. “I’m not sure how you do it. I get nervous as it is having mages and templars coming into the bar, nearly at each other’s throats every night. To be an apostate…” She gave Echo a sympathetic smile before she picked up the hairbrush and began to brush her hair. “Why haven’t you gone back to the Hintherlands yet? I thought you weren’t staying in Haven for very long.” 

“Why? So eager to be rid of me?” Echo teased, with a smirk. 

“I was just wondering of your change in plans,” Flissa sent her a pointed look over her shoulder. “That is all.” 

Echo’s smirk dropped into a more serious expression and she rolled the tension from her shoulders. “You’ll laugh,” she admitted, quietly. Her lips turned downward as she looked out the window at the never ending blue sky. There was not even a cloud in sight. 

“What if I promise not to?” Flissa asked. 

Echo’s mistmatched gaze swept back towards her. “I…I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and she kicked at the imaginary dust on her floor. “I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. A bad feeling.” 

“And that makes you want to stay?” Flissa blinked, her brows furrowed. 

“I don’t want to,” Echo said, lips pursed. She rubbed the spot right above her heart, and a troubled shadows filled her eyes. “I think I _need_ to.” 

Flissa frowned. “You’ve been thinking a lot about this, haven’t you?” She asked, cautiously. With her clothes draped over her arm, she walked towards Echo with a slightly worried expression. “You’re _really_ worried, aren‘t you?” 

Echo let out a deep sigh, before she nodded her head once. “Yeah. Yeah, I really am,” she said, running her fingers down the side of her face tiredly. “I have a feeling that this Conclave is going to nothing to end this war between the templars and mages. In fact…I think it’s only to end up making things worse.” 

* * *

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she looked over Seggrit’s goods. _All swords and shields_ , she thought before she moved on. While she had learned to use a sword, she was not good at it. With her lither frame, she was better as a rogue fighting style than warrior’s way. The fennec fur kept ears warm as Echo pulled her cloak tighter around her. The cloak was probably the nicest thing she owned, lined with fur at the top and the thick red cloth that stopped down at her knees. It was perfect to stave off the cold and snowy weather. 

She looked at the people as she passed them by. Haven had been bustling ever since news Conclave had spread, and it had erupted into pandemonium when everyone starting arriving. In particular, when Divine Justinia and her “Hands” arrived. So many people came looking for their blessing, and many more would come still depending on how long the peace negotiations would last. 

Echo passed a tall intimidating, yet beautiful Qunari woman who walked through the town without so much as bating an eye at the stares she received. She passed a dwarf that she sure was part of the notorious Carta with his clothing, but he disappeared before she could see which way he moved. In the end, she supposed it wasn’t her business. Right now, she just wanted to get this day over with as soon as possible. 

“Get out of my way,” a voice barked. “Filthy knife-ear.” 

Echo’s head shot up swift enough to see a Dalish elf shoved down into the dirt. Her mouth dropped open when a group of people proceeded to walk right over him like he wasn’t even there. 

_She was shoved down in the bus aisle, and the people behind her didn’t wait for her to pick herself up before they all started to walk on her. Their feet slammed down into her back, knocking the wind painfully out of her and she couldn’t even scream. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, and she felt like she was being crushed to death._

Echo was pulled back into the present, feeling like big ball of snow had been dropped down the back of her shirt and it chilled her to the bone. Then anger as hot as lightning burst in her chest and she found herself stomping forward with a snarl on her face. “Hey! Hey!” Her shout caught more a few people’s attention, and those wise enough scurried out of her path. Once she reached the elf, she shoved the man who was about to stomp on him away. “What the hell?” 

“How dare you touch me!” The man looked affronted. 

“I dare when you and your buddies think it’s alright to shove a person to the ground, and then walk on them!” Echo snapped, her revulsion in her voice and disgust written upon her face. 

The man’s face turned red, but before he could voice his outrage another person stepped in. He was a tall man that could have easily fit the description of prince charming, with his slicked back golden hair and armor glinting in the sunlight. He had a proud and strong jaw, with full lips. He had a little scar on his lips that only enhanced his handsome features and two dark golden eyes looked sternly upon the scene before him. He held himself like a military man, with a black and red fur mantle only make him larger and taller. “What is going on here?” He demanded, his voice sharp. 

Echo first instinct was to curl into herself feeling slightly cowed by him, and almost wilted underneath his disapproving stare. That was until she remembered that she did nothing wrong and straightened her spine with a renewed look of defiance. “These men felt the need to shove this poor elf to the ground and stomp on him for no other reason than him being a knife ear,” she stated, her voice cool. She did not expect him to care, not many did, but that didn’t mean she was going to let the matter drop. 

“Commander Cullen, that rabbit…” The man began. 

Commander Cullen’s expression went icy at the term. “Enough. You will not speak that way to her or any other elf,” Cullen said, his voice low and threatening. “This kind of behavior is intolerable, and if I find out that you pulled one more incident like this…I will send you packing. Is that clear?” 

The man’s mouth clicked shut. His face now had turned purple in anger, but he nodded his head sharply. 

Echo felt shocked, but pleasantly so. Her hands reached down grasping at the poor fallen elf, and helped him to his feet. “Are you alright?” 

“I…I am fine,” the Dalish elf breathed out. He was thin, so thin as if he hadn’t eaten properly in several weeks, and he probably hated. His face was slender, and the tattoo branches on his cheeks highlighted his prominent cheek bones. His blue eyes were large and wide, and his nose slender and straight. His mop top was a deep, copper color and was long enough to hang down into his eyes. “Thank you.” 

“And apologize,” Cullen added, for good measure. 

“I…” the man sputtered. 

“Now,” Cullen snapped. “Then report to training.” 

The man mumble an insincere apology before he darted off. All else who stepped on the elf had disappeared just as quickly, and Cullen watched them all with a glower. Finally, he heaved a sigh and turned towards them. “I am Commander Cullen, and I apology. My men…they should know better than that and I will make an effort to ensure this doesn’t happen again.” 

Echo pressed her lips together. The name Cullen was familiar to her, and the more she looked at this man’s face, the more she got a nagging sensation in the pit of her stomach. “I hope that you do,” she told him, quietly. 

“It’s…it’s alright,” the Dalish elf murmured. “There’s no reason for…” 

“It’s not alright!” Cullen corrected, his hands clenched tight at his side. “There was no reason for you to be treated like that. There‘s no reason for anyone to be…” He closed his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. “I apologize again, I should have not raised my voice.” 

Echo shifted on her feet anxiously. The back of her neck prickled in warning the longer her eyes traced the Commander’s face, and her legs itched to runaway. 

“It is not problem, Commander. It is surprising to see someone so openly stand up for elves,” the Dalish elf chuckled, breathlessly then winced. “Especially a shem.” 

“Then I’m sorry that you have not had better experiences with humans,” Cullen told him, sincerely. He looked upon the Dalish elf with a twinge of regret, and then his eyes flickered towards Echo for the first time. His brows furrowed in slightly confusion, and his head tilted to the side. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?” 

_Templar. Kirkwall. Shit._ The three words flashed through her mind in a split second, and she felt her breath falter. She recognized him alright. The lines on his face still there, but less prominent as they were now. His hair had been curlier than it was now, but those golden eyes were unmistakably the same. “I can’t imagine where,” Echo laughed, a high-pitched and nervous sound before she swallowed her tongue back. “I’m sure I would have remembered someone like you.” 

Cullen didn’t look so sure. “Did you…” then he stopped, a self-deprecating grin flashed across his face. “Nevermind. It was a silly thought and I have taken enough of your time. I recommend you see a healer,” he said to the Dalish elf. “Make sure nothing is broken, and if they give you any more trouble say the Commander sent you to them.” He gave them one last nod. “Good day to you both.” 

As soon as he disappeared around the corner with a scout on his heels, Echo allowed herself to breathe once more. “Come on, let’s get you to the healer’s tent,” she said, mustering up what she hoped was a believable smile. 

* * *

The Dalish elf was quiet. Too quiet, and his eyes darted around taking everything in when he thought that Echo wasn’t looking. He had taken off his tunic, and Echo had to resist the urge to make an angry sound. His left side was already black and purple with bruises; his emaciated state did not help things either. But he kept his chin up, refusing to allow his expression to waver in the slightest. 

Echo could respect that. If the roles were reserved, she didn’t think she could cover up her emotions quite as well as he had. “Alright, just easy breath,” she told him, allowing her fingers to apply gentle pressure to his ribs. “I’m Echo, by the way.” 

“I’m…Mahanon,” he introduced, his eyes darted to Adan who was over in the corner working on potions with a delicate precision. “I couldn’t help, but notice that you seemed worried about that shem Commander. Quite anxious to get away from him, you were.” 

Echo gave him a look of surprise. 

“You weren’t exactly subtle about it,” the Dalish elf said, a bit more defensively than he meant because he immediately looked guilty. 

“And you’re not exactly subtle with your inquires,” she retorted, with a light frown as she checked his ribs carefully. He hissed when her fingers pressed against the third rib, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “A broken rib. It will need to be set before we give you a potion, otherwise the bones won’t heal right. It’s going to painful.” 

Mahanon just nodded his head once. It was a dreadful thing setting ones bones, especially without the aid of proper medicine. With Adan’s help it took all of three minutes, and she winced as Mahanon bit back a painful scream. His fingers dug into the cot beneath him, and his teeth bit into the leather strip that Adan had offered him. He slumped after it was over, and let out a long, shuddering breath. 

“Good,” Echo nodded, satisfied with her work. “Now the potion we are going to give you is a slow heal potion. It’s design specifically to help bone growth on such delicate breaks. You will need to take it for the next week, and a bit of warning, it will make you drowsy.” 

“Drowsy?” Mahanon’s eyebrows shot upward. “I c-can’t! I have to be up at the Conclave…” Panic flashed across Mahanon’s face. He had revealed far more than he had intended, and his eyes darted towards the door. 

“And what would the Dalish want with the Conclave?” Adan asked, slightly exasperated. 

“All people are interested, Adan,” Echo said, after a moment. “While it’s surprising that the Dalish sent someone here, it’s not entirely unwarranted. This war affects all, more than most are willing to admit.” 

“I suppose so, but regardless, you need that potion. You rib may be set, but it’s still broke. You can’t go gallivanting off with a broken rib unless you wish to puncture your lung then choked to death on your own blood,” Adan stated, deadpanned with a flat look at the Dalish elf. 

Mahanon made a face at the mental picture while Echo shook her head with a laugh. “Ah, Adan, have I ever told you how sweet and endearing your bedside manner is?” She said, with a light smirk. 

Adan snorted. “Here. Drink up. I won’t have Taigen saying I don’t take of his patients while he’s busy,” he stated, shoving the potion into Mahanon’s reluctant hands before he marched back of to his work. 

“I shouldn’t,” Mahanon said, with a frown. “I have to be watching the Conclave, not…” 

“Look,” Echo looked him straight in the eyes, “whatever the conclusion of this Conclave is, you’ll hear it down here, okay? Either people will be smiles and celebrating the beginnings of peace or be grim with the outlook of war. The two look nothing alike, I assure you.” 

“Ha, I suppose that is true,” Mahanon gave a light laugh then his shoulders slumped. He looked tired and slightly defeated. “Very well. I will follow your advice, harhen.” 

“Hahren?” Echo blinked. 

“Ah, ir abelas. I forgot many city elves do not speak elven language,” Mahanon said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “It is meant for a teacher or a mentor.” 

“I’m your teacher, now am I?” Echo looked amused. 

“In this instance,” Mahanon said, with a small smile. “Thank you. For stepping in back there. I never expected to find such kindness from…well, to be honest, from a shem and city elf.” 

Echo hummed. “Well, sometimes, people have a way of surprising you. You just have to give them the chance,” she flashed him a smile, and pushed the medicine still wrapped in his palm towards him. “Now drink.” 

* * *

The Conclave would be starting any minute now. Templars and Mages had marched up towards the mountain, while a few stranglers were still walking around Haven. After tending to some illness (mostly colds from the ones unused to the cold weather), Echo headed back to her cabin when she had that _feeling_. It was feeling she was acutely aware of and she hurried her pace to make it to her cabin before it happened. She didn’t need for it to happen in the street and for some Templar to think she was possessed and hack her head off. 

A relieved breath escaped her when her cabin door shut firmly behind her and the feeling increased tenfold. _What did they call it again?_ Echo thought, trying to roll the tension from her neck, but she couldn’t quite get the muscles to relax the way she needed. _An aura. That’s what they called it._

No, she isn’t talking about a _mystical_ aura. She was talking about the kind of aura that came with having epilepsy. Echo at age nine was diagnosed with idiopathic epilepsy, after she had a grand mal seizure in the middle of class. With therapy and medicine, she had been able to manage them and when she got older the less sever they became. However, that all changed when she got sucked into this world. They became worse. To such a level of worse, that if they hadn’t been frightening before they would be absolutely terrifying now. 

It all started with that feeling in the pit of her stomach. A slight fluttered like she had went down a slide way too fast, and she let out a shuddering breath. There was a sudden rush of free and the smell of oranges. She steady herself on the vanity, not sure when the seizure (the more violent one that was sure to follow) would occur. Sometimes, it could be hours. Sometimes, it could only be minutes away. She almost missed her medicine, even with all its horrible side effects. 

Running her hands down her face, and she wished it would just happen so she could get it over with. The waiting was sometimes the absolute worst part of it, and she clenched her eyes closed. Then her brows pinched together, feeling a tremble in the ground beneath her feet. She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Her eyes flickered to the water basin on the vanity, and the rhythmic ripples that moved through it. She was suddenly reminded of Jurassic Park and trepidation flooded through her. 

Her eyes snapped to the window just in time to see the sky light up with blinding green light, there was a tremendous roar followed by terrified and her entire world went black. 

When she came to, she was on the dirty wooden floor out of breath and in so much pain. Her vision was blurred with tears and black spots. She desperately grasped with her memories, trying to recall what happened yet it was entirely blank. _An-another seizure?_ Was her first thought, until she blinked away the rest of her tears and her head was tilted back in shut a way she could look up out the window. She lifted her head as far as she could off the ground, and her lips parted in shock at the swirling green sky above the mountains. It looked like the eye of hurricane only much more ominous as it spat down bolts of green and there was a never ending rumble in the distance. 

A pulse reverberated through the tear in the sky, and Echo cried out violently clutching her right hand to her chest. Her entire body shuddered as bile rushed up the back of her throat. Her muscles spasmed, contracting and relaxing for several moment while her hand felt as if she had stuck into ice cold water and whitehot flames in the same moment. She choked back a great sob of pain and pulled her hand back out to look at it. 

Right in the center of her palm was a strange mark. 

A strange marked that glowed as green as the tear in the sky. _What the hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLANATIONS AND INFORMATION
> 
> I didn't know when I would get to post this story because i wanted it to be mostly done and get other stories done before I started to post. So I compromised and broken it down into a series. That way I don't have to stress over updates too much, and I can get my other stuff done before fully committing. :D
> 
> 1.) Echo is not the character you start as in the Dragon Age Inquisition Game. That character still exists, and why Echo got the mark will be explained in the next story in this series. Also her origins, how she came to be in Thedas and the why and everything that follow will be explained in the next story as well.
> 
> 2.) Why did I chose to have my character have these issues (epilepsy, depression)? I like characters that are flawed, or have weakness, or vulnerability. It makes a character more relatable and more human. Instead of this paragon of invulnerability that stands high on a pedal stool that can do wrong, and will always win no matter what. I don’t like all powerful original characters. I like a character that struggles, that sweats and bleeds, and fights despite the odds that stand against them. It gives the character and their background more honesty I feel. It also based off myself and a family member. For instance, the bus scene flash back that Echo has actually happened to me when I was seven or eight. I remarkably was unhurt even though some of the people who stepped on me were high schoolers. I have dealt with depression and anxiety and let it hold me back for years when I should have been putting myself out there. I’ve finally got myself together, and am finally getting poems published! And am working on my book to be published within the end of the month. I have a close family member who will be unmentioned who has gone through epilepsy, and because the seizures at one point were so terrible, lost several memories. No to mention, there will be an explanation for why Echo has epilepsy that ties into the storyline later on down the line.
> 
> 3.) Epilepsy- The type of epilepsy depends on the cause of the epilepsy. For example, 'symptomatic epilepsy' means there is a known cause (such as a brain injury) and 'idiopathic epilepsy' means that the epilepsy is usually genetic or inherited. While the seizures that a person with epilepsy usually form a pattern, but that can change if a condition worsens or gets better. Also epilepsy in some cases are linked to other mental illness, such as depression, attention deficit disorder (with or without hyperactivity), anxiety disorders and aggression.


	2. Drowning in Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echo struggles to help contain the chaos while keeping her mark hidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Essindra and chain0425 for bookmarking my story. I really appreciate it. :D
> 
> Thank you for LasairTrevelyan, ashinquisitor, chain0425, and JohskatheWise, the guests left kudos on my story!

CHAPTER TWO 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152592576@N08/b6E408)

“Drowning in Chaos”

* * *

_FIVE YEARS AGO_

_New Harmony, Indiana_

_November 22, 2015_

_Echo Harper had been reaching for the phone in her passenger seat when it happened. With scalding tears pouring down her face, she had ran out of the house and rushed to her car. Throwing on her seatbelt, she had sped out off the gravel driveway fast enough to spin tires. Her breaths were sharp and uneven; her hands unsteady on the steering wheel. As she drove down the long stretch of highway along the flooded river, she could see the lights from underneath the water where the park was down below. It was an eerie sight._

_Her teeth ground together when her phone started to ring. “You Are My Sunshine” ringtone that she had chose to give her a boost of confidence everyday now rang hollow as if it was taunting her. She had told herself to ignore the phone, the unfamiliar number that had been haunting her, like she always did when she was driving. But something told her that this was a call she couldn’t afford to miss._

_That’s when it happened._

_Her fingers grasped the phone, and hit the answer button when her car hydroplaned on the road. Hydroplane, that’s what they called it, Echo remembered. The road slick with the rain, and the tires just slid with a squeal. Her hands grasped at the wheel, and her foot slammed on the break. But that was too little, too late. The car slid right off the road, and down the embankment. There was an impossibly loud metallic smash, and the car flipped. Everything happened too fast, too quickly for her to comprehend. One minute the world was spinning, the next she was hanging upside down like a limp doll against her the seatbelt, and her dazed eyes staring out the cracked windshield._

_All the bones felt like they had been rattled about and rearranged in the most painful way. Her head throbbed, and each breath was labored. Something in her chest had cracked, and it felt like some had made her drank gasoline and then she swallowed a match._

_Murky water surrounded the car on all sides, and she blinked her bleary gaze as blood dripped down from her temple. The glass creaked and the crack grew larger with each passing seconds, and there was nothing she could do about it except watch. This could not be happening to her. This couldn’t be happening right now. Echo heart felt like it was going to burst inside of her chest, and she fought viciously to get out of her seatbelt. It was meant to be for safety, but now was the bars on what would be a watery grave. “No, no, no, no!” She all but begged. Her fingers were clawing at the latch, but it was jammed. The water was rising just inches from her head, and each second it crept closer._

_Echo brushed her hair out of her face, and closed her eyes tightly. “Okay…okay…just calm down and think,” she ordered herself, taking deep and even breaths before she bent her knees towards her chest. Her finger brushed her boots, and she unzipped the hidden pocket on the side. “Please, tell me it’s still there,” she whispered out, letting her spare debit card and money fall into the water below without a care. Digging deeper into the pocket, she felt a surge of triumph when her fingers clasped around a tiny pocket knife._

_She let out a laugh, a pitiful and hysterical sound. She flipped open the tiny pocket knife. “Please…please…” she whispered out, sawing the dull blade back and forth against the seatbelt. It was impossibly slow, and her pulse throbbed in her temples._

_And the water kept rising._

* * *

_NOW_

_Haven, Ferelden_

_9:41 Dragon_

Her lungs burned. 

Burning embers scattered across the ground, and ash clung to her from head to toe. The sky above was full of dark and blacken clouds that churned and billowed. The thin air burned her lungs, not nearly enough to satisfy her body’s need. She stumbled down the snowy hill, limping. The buildings around her were crumbling and abandoned, nothing more than a tomb of a world that once was. A mismatched gaze flickered down upon the corpses as she stepped over them. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/giphy%2022_zpsflcjpi7q.gif.html)

A twinge of pity surged through her, but she swallowed it down. She shifted her backpack over her shoulder and raised her gaze off the ground. Most people called it the end of the world, and shouted at the Maker to hear their cries. In a bright green flash, the unavoidable inferno of magic and the world had burned. The sky was torn asunder, and hundreds laid down now in the crater that once was the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Mages and templars alike killed. The Divine, who from what she understood was the only hope for peace, had been killed. 

So many had died. So many were _going_ to die. Three days had passed since the Breach had ripped open the sky and spat out demons. Three days since peace had no longer become an option, and Haven was now in a fight to survive. She swallowed down the knot in her throat, her red leather boots was a stark contrast against the blanket of snow, like the blood in which she stood. Crimson metal had been crafted to look like ribbons that covered the upper part of her chest and her hips. A deep rich red corset had been tied tight, and underneath that was a long cloak, bright as the flame stopping just below her knees. It almost looked like four flower petal in the way it had been shaped and shimmered just as brightly weaved from some kind of magic. 

A friend has suggested perhaps it was ancient elvhen. Echo didn’t know. She “woke up” in an ancient ruin, but that could have just been very bad luck. Hell, she didn’t even know if it was elvhen ruin. Echo had been too busy running from giant fucking spiders—the very things of her worst nightmares—and trying not to drown to take a tour of the place. Besides, she was mostly ignorant of this worlds history save for the very biased books that she found lying around. Her bow was slung on her back along with her staff, Echo ran her fingertips across the prints in the snow with a great frown on her face. It wasn’t like a human, elf’s, or dwarf’s foot print. It was something monstrous which meant there was a demon way too close to Haven for comfort. Her expression pinched. 

She was a fighter by no means. Merely a survivor against the very unlikely and impossibly things that had happened to her in the last five years. She had faced bandits, wolves, starvation and much more. Demons, however, were nowhere on her resume except in the occasional nightmare. _Where are Sam and Dean when you need them?_ She thought, with a wry smile. It had been a long time since she had thought of that tv show. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to entertain anything remotely about her home. Running a hand along her jaw, she stood up and scanned the trees around her with a suspicious look. 

She headed down the path towards the village with her bow in hand, and arrow ready to be fired. Soldiers and scouts were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. She saw the famed Commander Cullen barking out orders, and made sure to give him a wide berth. No one knew she was an apostate, but with demons pouring out the sky, she had taken her staff with her. That didn’t mean that she was going to walk past a templar—sorry, _former_ templar—with one right on her back in plain view. 

That was a headache she did not need to deal with right now. Her nose burned and ached from the frigid cold, and she couldn’t believe but she missed the temperature of the her little Kentucky home. At least, it wasn’t perpetually cold. Every other week, sure it would get a little cold, but that was bearable with heaters. Which hadn’t been invented here yet. Well, maybe magically, but she had no idea how to do that. 

“Watch it, knife-ear,” spat someone in her direction. 

Echo just rolled her eyes. Letting out a shuddering breath, she walked up towards her cabin to sneak her staff away before heading to the Chantry. There had been one sole survivor from the Conclave, a survivor had been brought down the mountain, and he had a glowing green mark upon his hand. 

Just like the one upon the palm of her right hand. 

Echo didn’t know how it got there. All she remembered was a blinding pain and screaming—a scream that was muted by the explosion from atop the mountain—and the mark was there upon her hand. It wasn’t as near as bright as the dwarf’s that had been brought in like a common criminal, and easily concealed underneath her glove. But with each pulse, the pain and mark grew stronger. _If anyone saw it,_ she thought as her heart thumped against her ribs. 

When she had came to, lying on the dirty floor of her small cabin barely breathing and feeling like death warmed over, and seen the mark…she had been utterly terrified. More than terrified actually, and she didn’t do well with fear, okay? When she was seven and watched Rose Red after her parents told her, ‘no’, she spent weeks darting from room to room thinking that the creepy floor thing was chasing her. She still had issues to this day because of that thing and hated having her bare feet against the floor. She would curl them up beneath her when she sat down to avoid that. Now take her current predicament—which was worse because it was _real_ —and she was an _illegal_ mage that stood at the foothill of the biggest disaster since the Blight ten years ago and the explosion at Kirkwall with a magic mark she cannot explain on her right palm. A mark that should, by all reason, not be there. Oh, and didn’t she mention she was a newly minted elf? 

Was there a faster way to be executed? 

No, no, there really wasn’t. So she was keeping said mouth shut, and said mark concealed. Perhaps it was cowardly to do so, but Echo had never been accused of being smart. Truth be told, the smartest thing would be to leave and flee. Several people had already fled Haven. No one would blink if she followed, but Seggrit, Flissa, Mineave, and Adan were still here. 

_Foolish,_ the voice came from her head. _You are foolish, too._

A hard truth, but one she acknowledged. Her lack of self-preservation, as Adan had come to call it, was a big character flaw. In dangerous situations she didn’t think of herself. She thought of the others first, and she knew she couldn’t leave everyone behind. Not with the world going to hell in a hand basket. _She had a soft heart,_ her mommy had said when she was five and brought home a hurt baby rabbit, _and couldn’t ignore those who were hurt._ Besides, Haven had become her home and to leave it would hurt more than she cared to admit. 

Echo traveled from the Hinterlands and Haven, bringing much needed supplies and help. She had grown to care for the people here, and they were the closest thing she had to family. She was afraid of losing that, and she knew if they found out about the mark that they just might. _“You are an ocean of waves, weaving a dream like thoughts become a river stream,”_ she whispered out, the lyrics underneath her breath. It was a defense mechanism she had developed through therapy to counter act her PTSD and depression. Memorizing music or books could help express emotions when a person couldn’t find the words themselves. 

She hid her staff underneath her bedding, before she stepped back outside. There was no way she was walking up to the Chantry the place that preached the evils of magic with it upon her back. Lack of self-preservation didn’t mean a death wish, contrary to popular belief. 

“Can I help you?” A brusque voice snapped, with a vaguely German like accent. Echo had learned that people from Neverra sounded like that, and there was only one person in Haven from there. 

Her head craned up to stare up at Cassandra Pentaghast. She was outwardly rigid and her expression emotionless, save for the blaze in her dark tawny gaze. She was as formidable as she was beautiful, with high swept cheek bones and full lips. The Seeker swept a shrewd look across Echo from head to toe. The scars she had she wore as badges of honor, and only enhanced her allure. She was intimidating in her Seeker armor, perhaps more intimidating than all the templars combined. “Seeker Pentaghast,” Echo inclined her head politely. 

_There were several ways to play this,_ she thought. She could be sarcastic, but that would immediately earn the Seeker‘s ire. The last thing she needed was to make an enemy of Seeker and by extension the spymaster. Being humble would be the best way. “I came to inform you that there seems to be a demon stalking the nearby forest. I found its tracks, but I have never fought such a creature before. I thought it would be best left to those who know better.” 

Dark eyebrows arched upward. “And you did not inform Commander Cullen?” There was a slight reprimand in the words, but also a hint of curiosity in those dark eyes. 

“He was busy with troop formation, milady,” Echo said, with a self-deprecating smile. “I did not wish to disrupt their work with all the…chaos going around. I figured my best bet was either finding you or Sister Leliana.” 

Cassandra contemplated for a moment. “I will give the scouts the information, Miss…” She trailed off, realizing that for the two long weeks they had been in Haven that she could not recall meeting the woman in front. Only seen her briefly in passing. 

“Harper,” Echo said, hiding her wince. If Leliana looked into her background, and found nothing, she had a feeling that it would not go over well at all. “Echo Harper, Lady Seeker.” 

“Miss Harper,” Cassandra nodded, her eyes slightly narrowed. “I will give some scouts the information and they will deal with the beast. Have no fear.” 

“I think it’s a bit late for that, Seeker,” Echo smiled, thinly. “Good day,” with that words, she turned on heel and walked away from the Chantry. The sky was literally falling apart. This was a time of fear, and no matter what words the Seeker gave wouldn’t change that. 

* * *

Echo had left the Seeker and headed straight for the healers tents where she might be of some use. Seconds passed like hours, and hours moved with the speed of eternity. The dead were piling up, and so were the wounded that would eventually join them. Most of Haven had begun to believe that this was the end of days, and Echo hated to admit it, but she was beginning to believe it herself. How could she not? With each pulse of magic that erupted from the sky, tendrils of pain burst forth from her palm and nearly knocked her from her feet. Hope was dwindling, and helplessness was not a feeling that Echo did well with. She liked to be able to fix things, to mend them, to put them back together. She didn't know if she could fix this. She didn't even know if there was a way to fix this. Echo glared at the blood pouring from the wound on the soldier’s arm, as she twisted the belt around his upper arm. “We have to cauterize it,” Echo said, a bead of sweat clinging to the tip of her nose. 

“You can’t be serious,” Adan looked horrified. 

“I am serious,” Echo snapped, her blood shot eyes focus on the belt that she fashioned into a tourniquet. “I am no healer, Adan. I don’t know if I could heal this even if I tried, and I practically drained everything to set up wards out in the forest after our unexpected visitor.” She talked of the demon that she had tracked into the woods. The scouts that Seeker Pentaghast had ordered to hunt it down managed to stop it right on the edge of town before any lives were lost. 

It was still a closer call than Echo had liked. She had went out that morning and set up wards. She didn’t think anyone would notice since they were too busy with the battle up at the mountain top. If they did notice…she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Her eyes short up at the alchemist’s pale face. “His brachial artery has been severed. He will die if we do not do something to get that wound sealed. The tourniquet is not meant to be a permanent solution.” 

“I am aware of that, it’s just…” Adan ran a hand down his haggard face before he swore an oath under his breath. “Fine. Tell me what to do.” 

“We need alcohol to sterilize a knife. There should be one in my knapsack,” Echo told him, her throat raw and sore. She dipped the rag into the water, and wiped the blood clean from the wound. It was a nasty looking wound made by a Shade’s claw, and she felt her stomach twist violently. 

Adan did as he was told, and poured some ale of the blade shakily. His nerves were frayed by his mentor had died violently when a skirmish had broken out between some remaining templars and a mage that had turned into an abomination. In his panic after being corner by the templars, he had no chance against his fear. It just had been too much for the mage. 

“Place into the fire until it glows red hot,” Echo ordered, her eyes flickered around the large tent before he looked down at the soldier. He had long since passed out from shock, and he shivered and shock in his cot. There was no one else up here, save for those resting on the cots and they didn’t appear to paying them attention. Her lips thinned out, and her eyes narrowed in determination. “And watch the entrance,” she ordered, making her way around the end of the bed. 

Adan gave her his signature grumpy stare times a thousand, and his hands were on his hips. “You can’t. You’ve spent your mana and there isn’t any lyrium…” 

“I may not have enough left to completely heal him,” Echo sighed, shot him a look out of the corner of her. Her lungs felt too small, like she couldn’t breathe. “But I can ease the shock his body is going through. Now watch,” she added, as a slight reprimand. She knelt down the soldier’s side, and held her hands just above his skin. Echo didn’t know a great deal about magic, but she knew what she felt. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how it felt the first time she had healed. The pull that that started in the pit of her chest, and then pooled down into her limbs in warm, tingling waves until it reached the tip of her fingers. 

A soft bluish green glow enveloped her hands as well as the soldier’s arm. She imagined the sinew and muscles stitches themselves, imagined how they trembled and shook from exhaust and distress. She imagined them relaxing, and calming. Imagined the pain washing away, and her brows knotted together as her jaw clenched tightly. The cords of her throat tightened and bobbed, her finger tips trembled. The tips of them began to burn as she forced the magic into the man’s body, and suddenly someone was shaking her shoulder. 

Her concentration snapped, and she blinked her bleary eyes opened. Her head bobbed and it took her a moment to raise it up at Adan as the magic seeped back into her skin. She had been mildly successful. She couldn’t fix his entire arm, but she had healed it enough that he wouldn’t lose it. In time and with work, he may get its full use back. “What?” She asked in a raspy voice. 

“It’s ready,” Adan swallowed, and held out the knife carefully. 

Echo nodded, and with a surprisingly steady hand, she accepted the whitehot blade. With her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, she held back the bile that rushed up the back of her throat and closed her eyes for the briefest moments to steel herself. And when she opened, she pressed the blade down onto the wound. 

The smell of burning flesh seared in the air and Echo’s stomach rolled. It was a smell that she would never forget, and she held the blade to the skin all of ten seconds before she pulled it away. Adan rushed forward with a cleansing liquid made from elfroot and embrium to sterile the wound. Cauterized wounds had a great chance of infection, and they had to be meticulous about keeping it clean now. 

There is silence. It was strange to hear the town was quiet. Since the explosion that ripped open the sky, nothing had been quiet. She braced herself on either side of the basin, and bent her head downward. _Those poor people. People who belong here, dying. And you…you who don’t belong here, or anywhere. You are a coward hiding in the dark,_ a dark, snide voice crept up from the back of her mind and she pulled her gauntlet back on with more force than necessary. 

The voice did have a point. Echo didn’t belong here. She wasn’t part of this world so what did matter if she died? No one would truly miss her. It wasn’t as if she was a big part of fate or important. She wasn’t some hero riding in on a shining steed, or got to say the witty punch line while saving the day. Socially awkward people didn’t get to be the heroes. 

She was not hero material. Echo had been in fights, but a few bandits were nothing compared to the war zone just up that mountain. And demons—actual, real life demons—were falling out of the freaking sky. Her mind felt frayed, like she was one loose string from being pulled apart and she felt tears come to her eyes. She blinked them back viciously before walking over the clean water bowl, and cupping some in her hands. 

Echo splashed water onto her face, trying to keep herself awake. She hadn’t slept in the last two days, unable to let herself rest when demons were running about. Not to mention every time her eyes drifted closed, she heard the spirits screaming in pain and being twisted against their will into demons as they were pulled through the Breach. The Breach was not just devastating on this side; it had been just a terrifying and deadly on the other side as well. And if that didn’t wake her up, the panic shouts and screams that erupted as more injured were brought down into Haven surely did. 

As she glanced at the soldier sleeping and watched the rise and fall of his chest, she allowed her shoulders to slump ever so slightly. _At least, being medical school drop-out has some use here,_ she thought wryly. She cleaned off the best she could, and turned towards Adan. 

He breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose in mute frustration. Sweat rolled down his temples and down his face as he concentrated on the soldier. “It really is the end, isn’t it?” He said, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. 

“Don’t think like that,” she told him, sharply. 

“How can I not?” Adan demanded, suddenly angrily. “Demons pouring out of the sky, the dead piling up by the minute…” 

“Because we have to continue on as if the tomorrow the world is still going to be spinning,” Echo’s voice finally broke and her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands as she shook. It took her a few moments to compose herself, and finish her sentence. “Otherwise we drown in the chaos.” 

* * *

THEN

_With a splash, her body fell down into the water._

_Echo gasped when her head burst to the surface of the water, and she grasped at the seat to help steady herself against the water that rushed in through the broken windshield. It was almost impossible to see with the dark water surrounding the cars on all sides, and she let out a shuddering breath. Her fingers dug through the water, and she found herself cellphone. She pushed the button than yelped when she got shocked._

_“Oh, that was stupid,” Echo breathed out, mentally face palmed before threw the phone into the back of the car. Hobbling towards the door of the car, she remembered that if the car was completely submerged than it should be easier to open it. Her fingers struggled to find the door handle, and when she did, she tried to shove it open. A grunt of frustration left her when the door wouldn’t budge an inch, and Echo shook her head._

_“No! No!” She slammed her hands against the door until they went number pain. The water was up to her neck now, and there was much space left. The doors offered no escape, and her body was become colder. She could feel her mind become fuzzy and hazy as her veins turned to ice. Her breath became labored and sharp, her eyes narrowed as her mind went a million miles per second. The only way she could out now was the way the water was coming in._

_She was going to break open the windshield._

* * *

NOW

Echo face was drained of all blood, leaving her as pale as the untouched snow on the ground. Sweat beaded along her brow, and she watched in silence as the soldiers left the tent to go out into battle once more. She had seen the despair, the resigned looks on their faces as they walked away as if they had been walking straight to the headsman's block. A headsman would have been kinder, Echo thought, with more than a little guilt. Her finger curled against her right palm, the mark started to shine through the glove on her hand. What if this mark could be a clue? A piece to figuring out how to end this massacre? Shouldn't she try to find out? 

“Are you going up the mountain?” Adan questioned. 

She paused for a heartbeat then sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“You shouldn’t,” he stated, firmly. 

“Probably not,” she agreed, her lips twitched into something like a smile. It was sharp, and all teeth like a snarl. It was not unkind look, but it wasn’t something pleasant, either. “But it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something that I really shouldn't have.” 

For several moments, they worked in silence. The scattered moan and pained breath was all that was heard before a deafening rumble like thunder erupted from above. Echo bit back an oath, her right hand went taunt. All the muscles and skin strained shooting pain up her arm that quickly spread through her whole body. It seemed to last for eternity, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Her shoulders slumped as the pain dwindled, leaving her body feeling raw and too sensitive. 

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she picked up the bandages and began to wrap them around the man’s arm. If Adan noticed anything amiss, he said nothing. 

Echo knew that going up that mountain was a death sentence. Look at how many had already died, and she was no fighter. But something in her gut told her she needed to go up there. Whether she liked or not, she was connect to whatever power tore open the sky and maybe…maybe this is why she was here in the first place. To help stop this if she could. 

“We have company.” Adan said, his eyes flickered to the tent entrance where two people lingered having a whispered conversation. “Sister Leliana and the apostate,” Adan said, his voice pitched low so they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“An apostate? Amongst the Seeker and templars?” Even Echo knew that would raise a few eyebrows, and she glanced curiously at the tent flap. Not many mages could get past their aversion and fears of the templars. That one would come here willingly, it was baffling. 

“Apparently he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” said Adan, with a humorous, but tired drawl to his words. 

“I don’t think they or we can afford to refuse any offer of help,” Echo stated, wiping the sweat off her brow. “Especially right now.” 

“Wise words,” a smooth and melodic voice interjected. 

Echo swept her eyes towards the elf that stood there with the barest hint of a smile upon his lips. The apostate elf stood taller than any elf that she had ever encountered, and slightly broader as well though he hid it well underneath his worn, loose tunic. A staff was held by magic to his back while he regarded them through a narrowed blue gaze. His head was bare, a narrow, oblong face with high cheekbones and a dimple on his chin. His jaw line was strong, and there was something so strangely familiar about his face. “I am Solas, if introductions are to be made. Sister Leliana bid to come to the healers tent and to tend to what wounded I came before I go to aid the forces upon the mountain.” 

Echo’s brows scrunched together. There was a tickle in the back of her mind, and the longer she stared at the elf, the more she felt that she knew him from somewhere. Though for the life of her she couldn’t place him in her memory. 

“Adan,” the alchemist said, after a beat then gestured towards Echo. “That is Echo. I’m going to go start to brew more potions. Maker knows we are going to need them. The ones that need aid the most are the soldiers are the far end of the tent. There is not much we could do for them. Bleeding from the inside, they are.” 

Echo was not skilled enough to help them beyond easing their pains, but without fixing the problem that was only a temporary comfort. After using the last remnants of her mana, she had split the last potion and force fed it to them, to help alleviate as much as she could. Adan had just taken one look at them and shook his head. They had been burnt, and tore up so bad that they were barely recognizable anymore. 

“Then I shall do my best to keep them alive,” Solas inclined his head, and moved swiftly towards his task. He moved with such elegance and grace that Echo did not expect, and she watched him for several moments before she realized that staring was quite rude. She busied herself with bandaged up the soldier’s arm. It was bruised and riddled with scars, but it would heal over time. A far cry from it getting lobbed off. Her breath hitched when she felt the wave of magic rolled off of the apostate. It came off him like a gentle ocean breeze; soft and gentle like the embrace of an old friend. 

It rippled visibly through the air around him, swirling around in arcs and Echo couldn’t help but to watch him out of the corner of her eyes. There was such grace in the way he spellcasted that she hadn’t seen in any other mage before, and the air trembled with excitement. Goosebumps rose upon her skin as she felt the magic call to the magic bottled up tight inside of her. A call that reverberated through her from head to toe but Echo choked down viciously. She finished tying the bandages with quaking fingers, and made sure they were secure before she rose to her feet. 

_How did he learn his magic?_ She honestly felt a little bit jealous. Mages that fled the Circles usually ended up Tranquil, unless their field of magic was considered less dangerous like healing. At least, until the Circles disbanded that was. Now, mages and templars just ran around killing each other on a daily bases just for running into each other. 

Echo gnawed on her lower lip, her head tilted to the side slightly. She didn’t think him Dalish, either. They had tattoo, some kind of blood writing from what she recalled. He had none, which meant he could be self-taught like her. 

She tried to tell herself this man probably had years of experience with magic that she lacked, and was completely at ease with his abilities, she could tell. She on the other hand was not completely comfortable with her abilities, and five years probably paled in comparison with the time he had been able to get used to his abilities. Echo ran her fingers through her hair, before she looked up and noticed that he was done with task, and now stared at her quite curiously. 

Echo did a double take, and gave him a strange look. She opened her mouth, to ask him was there something he needed we a familiar golden haired dwarf came walking into the tent. 

“Varric?” Echo gaped, blinking hard. 

“Mockingbird? Is that you?” Varric looked surprised. He hadn’t changed much. His beautiful crossbow, Bianca, sat upon his back and his golden hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail to keep it out of his face. Like all dwarves, his handsome features were strong and pronounced, but he didn’t grow a beard like his brethren were prone to do. His hazel eyes flickered over her face, and his jaw worked for several moments before he managed to speak again. “Shit,” he grunted, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What are doing in a place like Haven?” 

“Neither did I expect to see you,” Echo admitted, after gathering her wits about her. Her throat tightened, and it felt like she had just swallowed several shards of broken glass. “I transport goods from the Hinterlands to Haven. Got caught up in all this Conclave mess. Probably should have done what Isabella did and moved on by now, but once you settle into a routine, it is hard to break. You must be the prisoner that Seeker Pentaghast brought with her from the Free Marches.” 

“The one and only,” Varric grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked tired and haggard. “So glad to know that I’m so notorious enough to send the rumor mill all aflutter.” 

“Aflutter it has been,” she said, her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. It was a pleasant surprise to see him, and easy to fall back into old banter. It wasn’t often that she allowed herself to think Kirkwall, but she did miss friends that she had left behind. “Though they have done your glorious chest hair not a bit of justice I am afraid.” 

“And you say you don’t have a silver tongue,” Varric’s smiled smoothed out into something more genuine. “Best be careful with that kind of talk. You know how easily jealous Bianca gets.” 

“Ah, yes, Bianca. It is good to see that she is as lovely as ever,” she quipped, a grin flashed across her face. Her expression quickly sobered, and she couldn’t hide the concern in her mismatched gaze. “Are you alright? Have you been treated well?” 

“Other than a bit of manhandling, I’m golden,” Varric replied, wryly. “Can’t say the same for everyone else. I’ve seen some pretty weird shit, but damned if I ever seen anything like demons being spit out a giant hole in the sky.” 

“I find it very hard to image that anyone could have the mind to conceive such a thing,” the apostate Solas walked up to them, each step careful and measured with grace as he held him with such a humble posture. “The forces used to tear open the sky are of the likes this world have never seen.” 

Echo found herself enthralled with the way he spoke. His voice was smooth as silk, and each syllable fell from his lips like a note in a song. Like in a rhythm or a beat. Her brows knotted together because his voice only heightened the sense of familiarity that she felt for him, like a word that hung on the tip of her tongue but ultimately could not be found. 

“Ah, Chuckles, with all that cheery talk is just perfect for morale,” Varric said, amused and sarcastic. 

“Chuckles?” Solas frowned. 

“A nickname,” Varric stated, unashamed. “It suits you.” 

Echo just arched a brow. “You might as well resign yourself to it. There is no changing his mind once he is set upon a nickname,” she told the other elf, with a light laugh. “Besides, Chuckles is pretty tame to others I’ve heard him come up with.” 

Solas looked pensive, and perhaps even a bit suspicious as he stared at her for a moment, before he inclined his head. “I suppose as nicknames would go that Chuckles is not entirely appalling,” Solas admitted, the edges of his lips quirked upward. His eyes searched her face before they swept back towards the dwarf, and he added, “Morale can turn the tide of any battle, Master Tethras, but it will mean little if we underestimate the threat of the Breach.” 

“I think only a fool would underestimate a tear in the sky,” Varric shook his head, a thinly veiled disbelief upon his face. He was having a hard time accepting the reality of that thing swirling in the sky. His honey colored eyes flickered up at Echo, and he arched an amused brow. “You gonna be joining us up on the mountaintop? It’d be like old times.” 

“I…” Echo hesitated. She had intended to go alone on the mountain top, hoping to discover what the mark was exactly was. It was obviously tied to the Breach in some way, and it was getting impossible to ignore. It felt like acid was eating away at her flesh from the inside out and it was getting worse. That didn’t give her optimism for good things to be happened. 

“Go,” Adan ordered. “You were planning on going anyways. Might as well do it with someone watching your back. Someone ought to.” 

Echo made a noise of exasperation and tossed him a look over her shoulder. “Careful, Adan. You sound like you care,” she told him, dryly. 

Adan grunted, and went back to work making potions without another word. 

“So? You in?” Varric asked. “Time’s wasting.” 

Echo leveled a look at him, with her hands on her hips and the dwarf had the gall to just smirk up at her knowingly as if he already knew she would cave in. Drawing in a deep breath, she shook her head side to side. “I have a feeling I will live to regret this,” she sighed, heavily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!
> 
> The song Echo sung: Fire Emblem "Azura's Song" by AmaLee. Lyrics by Hitori Omou. You can watch it on youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsz5ijRQvUY
> 
> Next Chapter: Solas is as suspicious of Echo as she is of him as they battle to take back the mountain. Echo considers coming clean about her mark when she learned that she and the dwarf may be the


	3. The Unbroken Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Echo gets free of her car only to find herself in a nightmare. In the present, Echo, Varric, and Solas go up the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, ashinquisitor, chain0425, JohskatheWise and the 10 guests that left kudos on my story!
> 
> I want to also thank fishy7073, JohskatheWise, Fayne for leaving reviews! Thank you! :)
> 
> If I had to have some who played my character, it would have to be "Emily Rudd". That what she looks like to me. :D

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

“The Unbroken Song”

* * *

_FIVE YEARS EARLIER_

_The foot slammed into the glass, and it splintered. The water gushed forth, and Echo struggled to keep her head above the water. Her neck was craned backwards, and the water lapped at her chin. Her teeth chattered together because the water seemed to be growing colder and colder; her skin was tingling and prickling with numbness. With one hand braced beneath her and the other holding on the seat above her, Echo used it to give her leverage to renew her efforts to bust in the windshield._

_Her pulse jumped wildly in her throat, and she clenched her eyes tightly shut. “Please God, please God, I know I have prayed in a long time, but please for heaven’s sake, don’t let me die like this,” she choked out and kicked at the windshield. Her foot stung through her soggy shoe at the sheer force she put into the movement, but she kept repeating it while she gnashed her teeth together._

_With each kick the glass fractured more and more until finally a huge chunk broken free from the rest of the windshield. Echo gasped, the sudden rush of water made her lose her grip and plunge underneath it. She kicked upward, her head broken the surface and she sputtered, choking on the water she had inhaled. She clenched her eyes closed, and when her coughing fit was done, she prepared herself. Drawing a deep breath and holding it, she plunged underneath the water this time willingly._

_It was hard to see. While the water was clear, the current was fierce blurring everything in her path but somehow she managed to pull herself halfway out of the windshield when something went tight around her ankle. It jerked her to a complete halt, and horrified she realized that she was caught on something._

_Her head whipped around, and she kicked her leg only to the dim glint of the seatbelt buckle. That damned seatbelt was going to get her killed! Inwardly Echo seethed because safety was literally within arms reach, and to be so_ close _that it was almost physically painful was almost too much to bear. She struggled, pulling and tugging on her leg, trying to twist it free of the seatbelt. Bubbled escaped her liips as she flayed around, violently. Her lungs had started to burn, the need for air growing with each passing second like her desperation._

_She twisted back around, and curled forward so her hands could reach her ankle. Her fingers clawed at the seatbelt strap that was wrapped around her left ankle like a noose from a hanging tree. Her teeth gnashed together as she staved off the impulse to suck in a deep breath; her lungs were burning now, and black spot danced in front of her eyes. Her pulsed throbbed in her temples in a frantic pace that left her lightheaded, and she could feel her control slipping from her fingertips._

_Her mind slowly went numb; the burning inside her lungs her only thought and as her fingers stilled, her lips parted for a breath and everything went black. Flashes went through her mind, distorted and jumbled. A flash of her mother, with ivory skin and green eyes._

But my mother had brown hair and brown eyes, _came the thought that immediately followed._

_The next was of her only four years old hiding behind her mother’s leg, peeking around at the man who sat up a throne with a wolf pelt draped across his bare chest and the gaze of predator._

But that didn’t happened, did it? _Echo groaned, her eyes cracked open just a hair at the sensation of wet sand pressed against her cheek. She was on a beach? Did she manage to get free? She must have, otherwise she wouldn’t be on a beach, right? Echo didn’t know how long she laid there, with her face pressed into the sand. Time meant nothing as she laid there, drifting between consciousness and oblivion. Blood trickled like water down from her temple and across her forehead to pool upon the black sand._

Wait…black sand? 

_Her eyelashes fluttered as she began to struggle to pull them open, and her fingers burrowed into the sand. The wet grains were abrasive against her skin, startlingly her just enough to regain complete consciousness. A huff of air left her as she stared out at the beach that laid in front of her for several moments, and blinked rapidly. The vision didn’t change._

_“How the hell?” Echo weakly pushed herself her off the beach and twisted her head to look back at the water. “This isn’t…possible…”_

_Gone was the clear water that she had pulled herself from. Instead it was now oozed dark green, the waves and current churning violently. She pulled her feet away from the water that lapped at them almost like greedy hands that wished to pull her back in. She swallowed harshly and looked down at her fingers buried in the sand. She lifted one pulling a handful of black sand along with it, and watched slide through her fingers as she curled her hand into a tight fist._

_Her thoughts raced like a hamster on a wheel. Spinning, spinning, but no logical place they could go because there was nothing logical about what she was seeing. “This isn’t right. This isn’t right,” she whispered, pushing herself roughly to her feet._

_The sky was fathomless grey with shimmering green lightning that crackled across it soundlessly. Large rocks, nearly the size of her car to entire islands hung in the sky suspended by nothing and defying the very laws of gravity. The air here was crisp and cold, seeping into her lungs. Her eyes were nearly popping out of her skull, and her mind couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. A hysterical noise escaped her trembling lips, and she thought to herself, _Was this hell?_ _

_“You got too close,” a voice came from behind her._

_Echo whipped around to be confront by a person, but it wasn’t a person at all. It body was that of a person, though no gender could be placed for certain. It’s form shimmered a gentle blue, and was slightly transparent. Horror lanced through and she backpedaled to the water’s edge. “Wh-what the hell are you?” She gasped._

_“I am Curiosity. What are you?” The phantom whispered back, its voice reminded her of a bird’s chirp._

_“C-Curiosity?” Echo frowned._

_“You do not look like any curiosity that I have ever seen,” the spirit laughed, merrily._

_Echo reeled back, and blinked hard. Her head throbbed and ached, her hands rubbed her temples as she tried to shake off the last remnants of fatigue and confusion. “I don’t…” her words sounded strange, like tongue was too big for her mouth. “I don’t understand. I was in a car crash…I broke the windshield and got out…everything after that’s a blur.”_

_“You got too close to the abyss. It almost pulled you, but you pulled yourself back. Now you are here,” Curiosity told her, simply._

_“What?” Echo asked, still confused._

_“So bright, like a beacon that cuts across the foggy sea at night,” Curiosity said, tilted it’s head down at her like a curious cat. “The others stay away, linger just outside of sight. Peeking like children through the foggy window, but we are too close to the door. It’s cracked. You shouldn’t get near the door when it’s cracked.”_

_“The door?” Echo fumbled, trying to make sense of everything. It was just_ too _much._

_“The black door that leads to black halls and black walls,” the spirit’s voice turned hushed, and it even skittered away from Echo as if afraid all the sudden._

_Curiosity pointed upward, and Echo’s eyes followed. Above them, so close yet impossibly far away at the same time, was a huge Black City. Jagged and twisted spires of ebony reached up towards the impenetrable sky. The large city, for it was too big to simply called a fortress or a castle, was obscured by waves of black and grey smog save for the faint lights. Like a dimming candle in the night that gave the illusion that someone was there and waiting. A cold sensation clawed at her the longer Echo stared at it, a feeling of wrongness. She could feel_ hatred, anger, pain _burnt up the back of her throat with a volcanic intensity, threatening to strangle her and with great effort she had to pull her gaze free from the city._

_When she came back to herself, she was startled to see that she had taken several steps_ towards _the city. “What?” Echo shook her head, trying to rid herself off the dark emotions. They made her feel unclean, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach nervously._

_“It has drawn many victims, those who get too close. Those with weaker will, and it sustains them.” Curiosity stated as Echo backpedaled away from the floating monument in the sky above them._

_Echo felt a tremble run down her spine. “Sustains…who?” She asked, before she could think better about it. This was a dream. She shouldn’t be feeding into it. She should be finding a way to wake up._

_“Beings that time weathered away humility and grace replacing it with cruelty and heartlessness. Those that once protected twisted in their purpose became tyrants,” a new voice spoke up and a shimmering form took shape beside Curiosity. “Even the merciful prison in which they were trapped, they have twisted with their terrible, insatiable hunger.”_

_“Wisdom,” Curiosity greeted the new spirit._

_Wisdom appeared as a young woman in her late thirties with a short hair cut that framed her heart shaped face. Unlike Curiosity, Wisdom seemed more tangible and more solid than the blue spirit. Her form glowed a soft, calm purple. She held herself regally, and her purple all knowing eyes swept across Echo as if to judge her very soul. “Curiosity,” Wisdom greeted the other spirit, kindly. “I see you have found a friend.”_

_Echo felt something brush against her mind, attempting to sooth her frayed nerves. Part of her wanted to crumple like a kitten getting scratched underneath their chin, but Echo shrugged it off as best she couldn’t. She didn’t want to be comforted. She wanted to know what the hell was going on, and how to get it to stop. “I hope you understand that none of what you said means anything to me,” Echo stated, running a hand down her face. Her entire body ached, which would make sense since she had been a car crash. Everything else? Not so much._

_Wisdom smiled, sadly. “You’ve been sleeping too long. Lost to your waking dreams, you forgot to find is to lose and to lose is to find.”_

_Echo gave the spirit, for what else could it be, a strange look before she licked her cracked lips, and tunneled her fingers through her hair. She clenched her eyes closed, and whispered to herself to wake up. Her heart thumped in her chest, wildly and out of control. Fear clung to her skin in a sheen of perspiration, Echo pinched herself hard. It did nothing, but make a whelp on her arm because when she reopened her eyes, she was still in this messed up place. “This isn’t real,” she said, her voice quaked. “This _can’t_ be real.” _

_“Why wouldn’t it be real?” Curiosity asked._

_Echo didn’t reply, instead she bit the inside of her cheek harshly. Enough to draw blood, and she let out a shuddering breath. Is this what it felt like to lose your mind? Or perhaps she was unconsciousness still? Stuck in some kind of coma, lying on the beach in the midst of a storm? “Wh-where am I?” Echo finally managed to put the syllables together to make real words._

_“Between,” Wisdom said, oh so helpfully with a serene tone. “Here, but not here. You’ve lost the path amidst the dreams and have forgotten the way.”_

_“A-a dream? Th-his is a dream?” Echo asked. A dream would make sense. A dream, she could work with because with a dream she could wake up. And waking up would mean getting far, _far_ away from this place. “I can wake up?”_

_“If you remember the way back,” Curiosity interjected, brightly._

_“Remember the way back?” Echo asked, taking a deep breath. Her eyes flickered with trepidation back at the churning black water. She really did not want to back into that water, she thought with a violent shudder._

_“No, not there,” Wisdom shook her head. “The way that you came is the not the way back. You have to remember how to get back.”_

_Echo’s legs wobbled beneath her and she swallowed the knot of hysteria in the back of her throat. She may have whimpered as she turned in a full circle to view her entire surroundings, and she shook her head. “This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream.”_

_Echo couldn’t stop repeating the sentence over and over again because her heart sank like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. There was something about this place that made something deep within her soul tremble, and she shook her head slowly._

_The two spirits shared a look before Curiosity gave a nod then faded away leaving Wisdom to handle the sudden burst of panic. “Yes. Yes. A dream,” Wisdom said, her tone was not as assured as it had been several moments ago._

Good, _the vicious side of her thought. She didn’t want to be the only one feeling uncertain here, as childish as that was. “Then I can wake up,” her voice sounded hollow and empty to her own ears, not truly comprehending the reality that surrounded._

_“You just have to find your way back,” Wisdom countered, lightly._

_Echo turned slowly to face the spirit, and her brows furrowed together. She regarded the spirit suspiciously and tilted her to the side. “Go back?” Echo asked, her question echoed off all that surrounded them. “Go back_ where?” 

* * *

HAVEN

_Present Time_

The Veil was incredibly thin. 

It was pulled tight and taunt, stretched so thin by the growing tear in the sky. If it were not for the sounds of chaos and destruction, Solas could almost close his eyes and feel the magic in the air. It almost felt like home, but there was a hum. A hum of darkness and something so utterly wrong that ruin the image. _What had Pride wrought?_ He mused from where he knelt down beside the prisoner, a Child of Stone who held the key to their salvation. Or their destruction. 

Another mistake he had made, and another thing that he would pay for dearly. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he endured the threats from the Seeker. If he had been at his full strength then he would have scoffed, no matter how capable a warrior the shem woman was. While he was no longer as weakened as he was when he first awoke to this strange, wrong and utterly damaged world, he would still be a fool to start a fight with these people. No, if the man did not awake, he would steal away in the middle of the night and find somewhere to hide. 

Somewhere to plan, and hopefully, find a way to seal the breach before it was too late. He inclined his head to the Spymaster, careful to keep himself humble underneath her shrew violet eyes that reminded him too much of Dirthamen’s for his liking. He ducked into the tent to catch the tale end of a conversation between a female elf and a shem. 

“Apparently he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” said the man, with a humorous, but tired drawl to his words. 

“I don’t think they or we can afford to refuse any offer,” the female elf stated, wiping the sweat off her brow. “Especially right now.” 

“Wise words,” Solas interjected, smoothly. His lips twitched when he saw the pair jump ever so silently, but his expression never faltered in its politeness. He was by all means a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “I am Solas, if introductions are to be made. Sister Leliana bid to come to the healers tent and to tend to what wounded I came before I aid the forces upon the mountain.” 

“Adan,” the shemlen man said, after a moment. His cheeks and head reddened with embarrassment at being caught. He cleared his throat and scratched his beard nervously before he gestured over to the elven woman. “That is Echo.” 

She was young, was Solas’s first thought. With a slender face framed by long dark waves, and soft cheek bones with a thin, slightly curved nose. Her skin was fairer than most, and the color of her eyes gave him a moment’s pause. One blue as the oncoming thunderclouds, one green as the fathomless sea. Such eyes wasted on this time, he thought to himself. In his time, a child with that eye color would be celebrated for they were more natural in tune with the Fade while amidst the Waking World, traversing them as one. Her features were much more close to the elvhen of Arlathan than most elves he had the displeasure of encountering. 

“I’m going to go start to brew more potions. Maker knows we are going to need them,” Adan continued, with a light frown on his face. “The ones that need aid the most are the soldiers are the far end of the tent. There is not much we could do for them. Bleeding from the inside, they are.” 

“Then I shall do my best to keep them alive,” Solas inclined his head, and moved swiftly towards his task. While healing was not his strength, the wounds were not beyond his skill and the magic seeped into the soldiers skins. Muscles, blood vessels, sinew stitching back together. Broken pieces becoming whole once more, and the heartbeats soothed. 

It was great comfort, his magic. Though weaken by the Veil, it still held the power of his time. The same tune, the unbroken song that was all but lost to his people. It was a reminder, too, of his differences between him and the people that surrounded him now. So hollow, and disconnect from the world. Their broken link to the Fade left them so lifeless in a way that they did not understand, and could never appreciate unless they could see the majesty and wonders of his time. 

Magic in this day and age felt and tasted different than from magic before the Veil’s time. It felt choked, like a weak and starving animal that was a hollow shadow of its former self. The spells in the air were short and brief, like broken notes in an unknown song whereas the spell casted in his time could have lasted lifetimes. Several if were one so inclined and proficient in their craft. Like colors spun off of fingertips that sounded off like musical notes in an harmonious union to last until the end of the time, and the Veil cut them off in a harsh broken noise. Was it any wonder that this world was such a dull and colorless place to his eyes? 

He had been so used to the bitter, broken tunes from the magic of the mages around him. Fumbling with forces that they were too engrained to fear to even attempt to take their brand of magic and turn into something truly beautiful. If they even could manage a thing, that was. So when he felt _it_ , it nearly broke his concentration on healing the wounded soldier. 

A taste of old magic. So sudden, so unexpected that he had to stifle his surprise and narrowed his eyes in focus. A magic born far before the Veil, and that could not fully be repressed by it. It was a subtle difference to say the least, and he doubt anyone who did not the arcane well enough to know the difference would ever be able to tell. He released a soft breath, too silent to be heard and allow his gaze to fixate on the elf on the other side of the tent. 

The Dread Wolf’s suspicions grew. As the magic faded as if it had been his imagination that had conjured it forth, Solas drew his eyes over the elven woman’s, Echo, shoulders were a line of tension, and her eyes fixated on her task diligently as her steady fingers bandaged the man’s arm. Her breaths were short as if she were struggling with them, and all the blood had drained out of her face. 

She finished tying the bandaged, and looked up to catch his eyes. He watched her double take with more than a little amusement, and saw a question forming on her lips only to be halted by the Master Tethras entering the tent. 

Solas was not certain if he was grateful for the interruption for it would allow him time to gather his thoughts, or to be annoyed that he would have to save his curiosity for another time. If they survived, that was. 

* * *

Echo had been prone to bronchitis as a child. As soon as the rains in the springtime with allergies, she would doomed to at least get it once a year. It was such an inane thing to recall, but she did as they climbed up the mountain path. Terrible bronchitis led to scarred lungs, and the change in the altitude, she could feel old ache. The tightness in her chest, and how each breath seemed hard won. She narrowed her eyes against the dusting of snow that the chilled wind stirred up, and she wiggled her fingertips to keep the feeling in them. 

“You alright there, Mockingbird?” Varric asked, sparing her a quick glance of his shoulder. “You’re looking a little peaked. I guess, mountain air doesn’t agree with everybody.” 

“To be fair, I don’t believe this mountain agrees with anyone as of now,” Solas interjected, smoothly. 

“And that’s why we call you Chuckles,” Varric looked amused and grim in the same moment. People came running down past them, and despair clung to them like a second skin. A thunderous clap came from the sky, and Echo cursed, tripping over her own feet. Her hand shot out and she caught herself on a nearby tree. Pain fissured through the mark leaving her breathless, Echo closed her eyes to try to recover and her throat bobbed heavily. 

Echo looked up at the two that were a few feet ahead of her. “What do you think is going to be up there?” She asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, I have a general idea that’s it _bad._ Giant hole in the sky, the dead piling up faster than we can burn them, it’s _going_ to be bad. Just would like some clarification on the shitstorm we currently walking into.” 

“Shitstorm,” Varric snickered, with a smirk. “I’ll have to remember that term. If we’re going to make guess what’s up on the mountain top, I’m going to say a shit ton of demons and possibly some mages and templars left over from the Conclave. Let’s they are fleeing, or preoccupied with the rift as much as we are. It’ll get a bit dicey otherwise,” the dwarf stated, shooting her a look of his shoulder. 

“And here I thought you were a gambling dwarf, Varric,” Echo said, trudging up to his side as the ground leveled out. 

“With my wallet,” Varric said, completely serious. “With my life? Only when the occasion calls for it.” 

“And this occasion calls for it?” Solas gave a slight smirk. 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good story, and I may have a questionable idea of entertainment. Sue me,” Varric gave a shrug of his shoulders, then stopped abruptly. “Is it just me or that green glob falling from the sky heading straight towards us?” 

Solas and Echo followed the dwarf’s eyeline to see that indeed a ball of green glowing light like a comet was shooting down straight at them. “Move,” Solas ordered, pulling his staff from his back. 

Echo grabbed Varric by his lapels (and may have accidentally pulled his chest hair if the yelp he gave was any indication) and threw them both out of the way. The green glow impacted with the sound of thunder, and once Echo was on her feet, she watched with horrified fascination as a Shade erupted forth as if birthed from the very ground itself. 

“Holy shit,” she gaped, her eyes wide. 

“You can say that again,” Varric growled, pulling Bianca from his back. The Shade let out a screech a lunged forward, only to be jerked back by the impact of the bolt hitting its chest. It wasn’t enough to kill it. “Join the fun anytime, Mockingbird.” 

That jolted Echo back into the moment, and she drew an arrow from her quiver. She pulled it back just as the Shade shook of the attack, and started forward once more. The arrow cut through the air and slammed into the Shade’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solas dealing with another Shade--one that looked a whole heck of a lot meaner than the one that was coming after them. 

“Oh, come on,” Varric pulled another bolt back. “Mockingbird, you have to have better aim than that.” 

“I panicked! Demons exploding from the ground was something that I was not prepared for,” Echo hissed at him, and drew another arrow while slowly pack pedaling. She had seen wounds inflicted by sharp claws like those and had no desire to be on the end of them. 

“Oh, you mean, the big swirling gaping hole in the sky wasn’t a clear enough indication that weird shit was bound to happen?” The dwarf was entirely too entertained by it all. 

If Varric had been any close, Echo might have slapped the smirk off of his face if she had half the mind to do. For now, she’d settled for getting rid of the demon. The smell of putrid flesh burned her nose and she could feel the utter _wrongness_ and _agony_ pooled off the demon. It might have once been something else, but it had been twisted from what it once was for far too long. It’s only thought was to attack them. 

She ducked underneath and swiped, rolling herself away from the demon to put more distance between it and her. She got to her feet, and let another arrow fly. Varric’s bolt struck a second later, and the Shade let out a soundless scream before disintegrating into nothingness. 

“Chuckles, you alright?” Varric looked at the mage who had frozen the Greater Shade in place. 

Solas let out a breath of air before he gave an elegant twist of his hand, and the demon shattered like a million pieces of glass that fell noisily to the ground. “They are gaining in number. It will be worse on the path ahead,” the mage warned them, his brows drawn together and his lips tilted downward. His head tilted so he could look over his shoulder at the pair of them. 

“Then soldier will no doubt need our aid,” Echo said, breathlessly. 

Varric rolled his tense shoulders. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.” 

The dwarf passed her, and Echo took a second before she followed only to have Solas step into her path. She blinked, and looked up at him with a silent question in her eyes. Solas seemed to be contemplating something. “If it were not for your lack of vallaslin I would have figured you Dalish by your attire,” he stated, outloud and looked like he were trying to solve a puzzle more than looking at an actual person. “And yet you have not the look like any city elf that I have seen.” 

Her eyebrow ticked upward. “Is there a question somewhere in there?” She asked, bemused. 

“Perhaps,” was all his said. Then he turned on his heel and followed Varric up the path. Echo followed after a beat, and an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

* * *

_FIVE YEARS EARLIER_

_Echo fumed._

_She never fumed. Got annoyed, exasperated, but she could not recall a time she_ fumed _that was outside her childhood. She stared sourly at her surroundings since it was much easier to blame them than to blame herself for getting behind the steering wheel when she wasn’t fine. She had been so beyond what could be describe at the word “fine” that it wasn’t even funny in the slightest. “I’m not going along with anything,” she stated, giving Wisdom a look that was full of mistrust and suspicion. “I just want out of here, and nothing I‘ve done seems to wake me up.”_

_She had tried pinching, slapping and even biting herself to wake herself from the dream without any amount of success._

_Wisdom just nodded._

_“And I’m not entirely convinced that this isn’t a dream, or that I’m not stuck in some kind of lucid coma,” Echo ranted, stepping over the dead form of…_ something _. It was shriveled up beyond all recognition and she felt her stomach turn as a shudder ran down the length of her spine. She really wanted to leave this place, and she hoped never to return. Because there was no way that any of this was real. It just couldn’t be._

_“Of course,” Wisdom said, and she managed to not sound patronizing when she said it so Echo’s shoulders slumped._

_Echo opened her mouth to speak when a dark whisper cut through the dreamscape, and chilled her to the bone._ "Dead fingers talk. Dead fingers whisper. Dead fingers claw at one million eyes.."

 _Echo paused, then she turned to look at the spirit. “What…what was that? And why did it sound like it was born from the deepest pits of hell?” She asked, after swallowing thickly. She scanned the surrounding area, but saw nothing except a few random phantoms floating lazily around._

_Wisdom drew in a breath that it did not need. “We must hurry,” was all the spirit said, and took Echo’s hand into hers to tug her faster down the path._

_“That’s not an answer,” Echo said, faintly._

_“This is not a time for answers I fear,” Wisdom told her, with a quick glance over the shoulder. Turning back around, the spirit stifled a gasp when flames burst forth in the path in front of them._

_Echo’s eyes widened and she took a step back when arms ripped through the flames and a body began to take form. “What is_ that _?” Echo pointed a trembling finger as the creature pulled itself from the ground, born from lava and flames. A way of nausea swept of her as fear stabbed into her gut without mercy._

_“Rage,” Wisdom breathed out. “You must fight. I cannot fight for you.”_

_Echo’s eyes widened in panic. “I don’t know how to fight!” She said, her voice raised several octaves. She looked at Wisdom then at the Rage monster, then around wildly as if a weapon would magically appear. “Fight it? Fight it with what?”_

_“Concentrate. You mustn’t let fear rule you,” Wisdom told her, urgently._

_“That’s a lot easier said than done,” Echo snapped, backpedaling. The rage monster start to slither towards her, with an unholy laugh rumbled from it. Her mind raced, and she tried to think of several things that she could fight with when suddenly a bow appeared in her hand. Echo made a startled noise, looking down at it like she had never seen it before._

_“You must fight,” Wisdom shouted._

_“Burn,” the rage demon roared._

_Echo made a split second decision, and her arm reached back pulling an arrow free from the quiver that had appeared upon her back. She notched the arrow, the movement completely natural to her as breathing. Her pupils were dilated with fear, and her blood roared past her ears. She pulled the arrow back, the feather touching the side of her mouth before she released it as soon as the beast was within in arm’s length._

_The arrow crackled with electricity and with a boom of thunder, the arrow slammed straight through the rage demon’s body. It made a gurgling noise as it slumped back, as if stunned by the pain then it melted away like the wicked witch drenched in water._

_“You are most fortunate. It has only recently been changed. It is weaker than most things that linger so closely to the Black City,” Wisdom said, visibly relieved._

_Echo stared at the bubbling mess left over, and felt very dizzy. “Changed?” She heard herself say, but it sounded like she was speaking underwater. Her voice sounded far off and distorted as she stared down at the bow in her hand as she couldn‘t believe what just had happened._

_“It was once something else, but turned from its purpose, it became a demon,” Wisdom replied, a look of pity upon the spirit’s face._

_Echo felt her heart lurch inside her chest. “A d-demon?” She gaped, her stomach twisted into knots. Images from horror movies flashed in her mind, and a cold sweat broke out along her skin. “An a-actual demon?”_

_Wisdom nodded, looking morosely at the pile of molten lava that oozed slowly out of existence. “It was once something else, but it like so many others were turned from their purpose. The Fade is not the haven that it once was, but there is beauty that still remains if one knows how to look for it.”_

_Echo opened her mouth to inquire about the Fade, but let her jaw clank shut. Now was not the time for a Q &A and honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. So far there had been nothing, but nightmares in this place._

_“It is more than just nightmares,” Wisdom said, looking more than slighty offended._

_Echo blinked, then flushed when she realized she had spoken outloud. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend…it’s just…this isn’t my idea of what a dream looks like.”_

_“Ideas are dangerous things, especially when you only have an inkling of a far bigger picture. Do you see that child, over there?” Wisdom pointed to a corner where a bed was and in the bed was a faint form of a human child. All around the bed was a withered garden, filled with dead things and dark clouds overhead like it was the child’s personal storm. “Come.”_

_Echo’s brows pinched, but she followed the spirit. She made to the edge of the garden when an invisible wall stopped her from entering further. “What?”_

_“Dreamers have walls to keep their dreams in, and everything else out.” Wisdom grasped her hand, and she pulled Echo into the dream._

_Echo flinched back from the howling wind that was suddenly made real as she was pulled across the threshold and into the dream. Icy rain pelted against her skin, and she could hear the child crying. Soft, quiet sniffles compared to the gall that whipped all around them. Through narrowed eyes, she saw something at her feet and she picked it up. It was a teddy bear. “What…what is this?”_

_“The child is dreaming,” Wisdom replied._

_“Like me?” Echo questioned, holding the teddy bear between her fingers as she watched the child cower back from storm. The words ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ coming out of the child’s mouth with no sound, like its voice had been stolen._

_“No. Theirs is a different sleep.” Wisdom studied the child with a wistfulness. “There was a time before this. A time when this land was whole, and unbroken. The Veil was the beginning of the change, but the rest came when they were taught to fear us, themselves and all things tied to the Fade. Their fear shapes their perception of the Fade. If one were to take away the fear,” Wisdom gently took the teddy bear from Echo’s hands and placed into the shimmering form of the child who sat curled up fearfully on the bed. The child grabbed the teddy bear, and the fear was lifted. Instantly the withered plants flourished into beautiful blossoms, and the grass turned green. The dark clouds dissipated overheard and the sky was blue. “Then the all pretenses fall away, and allows the true beauty of our home to flourish.”_

_“Oh.” Echo watched in awe as the child’s dream changed. It was like watching the dawn, or counting the stars. That overwhelming feeling of amazement, and she reached out to a flower. The luminous red petal felt so real under her fingertips that it drew a soft gasp from her lips. It reminded her of a dream that she had as a child. She had woken up on the couch, and everything had shifted and changed into an entirely different world. It had been one of the most realistic dreams she had ever had, and it was slightly strange that she recalled it now._

_The child stopped crying, and the dream dispersed. “They woke up,” Echo realized, watching the garden fade away as if it had never been there at all._

_The edges of Wisdom’s mouth curled ever so slightly. “Come. There is much still left to see, and so little time,” the spirit told her._

_Echo shot her a curious look, but for this first time since she had ended up here—dream or not—it didn’t seem so bad. Of course that thought was completely ruined when the dark voice from early returned._

“Weak…pulled and stretched so thin…memories cast as a dream…do you remember where you sleep, little soul?” The dark voice crooned. 

_Echo froze like a deer in headlights. “Ummm…”_

_“We need to continue on,” Wisdom said, her peaceful visage uprooted by the dark voice and replaced with fear. “Quickly.”_

“Do you feel that music flowing through your veins? That's our heartbeat. The children put it forward out of love... Do you know how to love? It is the same as dying…” 

_Echo followed Wisdom briskly down the path, and she kept shooting glances all around her. Was it getting darker? It was! It wasn’t her imagination. The areas of light were getting snuffed out one by one, and Echo felt true fear burrow into her heart. She hated the dark. Not just for the fact that she couldn’t see, but that she couldn’t_ see _what was in it. “Um…is the thing…talking another d-demon?” Echo internally smacked herself, she hadn’t stuttered since she was six._

 _“No. No, it is not,” Wisdom whispered. “It is a piece of a whole, trying to use you to pull itself free.”_

_“I’m sorry? Pulling itself what?” Echo shrieked, before she could help herself. “What the hell is that supposed to me?”_

“You will turn to moss and dust, like those that came before you.” 

_Bu-rumph. Bu-rumph. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and she could feel tears of panic well in her eyes as the darkness grew all around them. “What the hell is going on?” Echo demanded, her voice raw with blistering fear._

"We drink the sounds you give us. The cries of your young, the gurgle of a freshly ripped throat, we give thanks for your desperation." 

_Desperation was a mild term for what Echo was feeling as she raced after Wisdom down the gnarled and broken path. She leapt over rocks and through the black puddles. Her lungs burned as she pulled gulps of air in through her clenched teeth, and her eyes stayed locked onto Wisdom like she was an anchor in a storm. They came around the corner and Echo nearly slammed into Wisdom who abruptly halted. “What’s wrong?” Echo asked, breathlessly. “Oh…ooooh…”_

_In front of them coming out of the black oozing water were shadow figures. Their eyes yellow and hollow and tore something deep down inside of Echo’s soul. “What…what are those?” Echo said, grasping Wisdom’s arm. She tugged the spirit back with her as she stared to backpedal away from the creatures._

_“Much like you, children lost to the dream. Yet they never awoke, and this is what they became,” Wisdom stated, sorrowfully. The spirit looked heartbroken at the shadow figures, and fearful at the same time._

_“They don’t look friendly. I think we should go,” Echo whispered out, and the pair turned only to find a giant cliff blocking the way they came._

_“And let me guess, you can’t fight again?” Echo looked over at Wisdom with a sense of impending doom filling her heart._

_“I…I cannot. It is not in my nature, especially not here,” Wisdom shook her head, true regret flashing through her eyes. “I am sorry.”_

_Echo couldn’t swallow down the ball of fear that swelled in the back of her throat, and she stared at the shadows that drew ever closer with their yellow lifeless eyes. “Oh, this is going to suck beyond the telling,” she couldn’t help, but whimper. In was in that moment that Echo lost all hope._

* * *

There was more than one rift. 

You’d think that would have been mentioned somewhere during their uphill battle, pun well intended, but nope. Neither Solas nor Varric mentioned it. So color Echo surprised when she comes face to face with a tiny rift that was spitting out demons as efficiently as the giant one in the sky. There might have been an impression of a fish again, followed by a ‘what the hell’ and dodging out of the way of a demon that reminded her a prang mantis. The places her mind went. 

As if fighting for her life had not nearly been enough, Echo felt the mark on her hand began to flare up and it was _tugging_ her constantly as if trying to get her to move closer to the rift. It was frankly painful and annoying as hell, which only soured her mood. “They are really beginning to piss me off,” Echo used her dagger for her bow had been knocked out of her hands, plunging into the skull of a green skeletal like wisp. She wasn’t sure how it worked with it being semi-transparent, and decided she really didn’t care in that moment. It got the job done. 

Her right cheek swelled up, already turning purple while blood leaked down shoulder blade where a demon’s claws had torn through her armor. Her left leg was sprained slightly where one of the prang mantis demons (that’s what she was calling them) made a portal, and plunged into the ground, then popped right out from underneath her. _The bastard,_ Echo thought viciously. _If I survive this, I’m sleeping for a week. Maybe two._

“You can write them a letter,” Varric shouted over the chaos. Soldiers flanked their sides, but the more demons they killed, the more kept popping out. The only way to stop it was to somehow close the rift. 

“Varric, not right now,” Echo said, her tone pleading and scolding at the same moment. Her mark ached, and her fingertips trembled. _Maybe if I just…_ She thought, her uncertain eyes flicked up to the green rift as it contorted about. She began to lifted her hand when Cassandra Penghast charged right past her and slammed a Shade into the ground. Momentarily taken aback, Echo whipped her head around to the direction that the Seeker had came from and found a dwarf standing there. 

A dwarf with the same mark on his hand. _The prisoner,_ Echo realized, and watched as the dwarf joined the fight rather reluctantly. 

Echo let out a yelp when a green demon went flying over her head, and she pinned a glare at a grinning Varric. “Keep your head in the game, Mockingbird,” he told her, rather smugly. “Or you’ll lose it.” 

“If you stood head higher dwarf,” Echo mumbled underneath her breath and rejoined the fray. With the additional help of the rogue dwarf and the Seeker who was like tank, the last of the demons were easily dispelled. 

Solas strode over to the dwarf’s side and grasped him hand, ignoring the glare sent his way by the prisoner. “Quickly, before more come through,” the mage stated, a twinge of desperation in his voice and he forced the dwarf to point his hand at the rift. With a loud crack, a green bolt of energy connected the mark of the dwarf’s hand to the rift and after what seemed to be lifetimes, the rift snapped shut with a shockwave that sent them all stumbling back a few feet. 

“It’s…it’s closed!” Echo stared at the empty space where the rift had been, and her heart fluttered inside of her chest. For the first time since all this began, Echo began to feel the stirrings of hope inside of her. 

“What did you do?” The dwarf demanded, pulling his hand free from Solas’s. He looked at them all with mistrust and there was something about him that put Echo on instant alert though she couldn’t put her finger on it. 

“ _I_  did nothing,” he stated, humbly. “The credit is yours.” 

“You mean this,” the prisoner said, twisting his wrist to expose the mark for all to see. 

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,” Solas explained, with a small nod. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that opened in the Breach’s wake.” Blue eyes flashed with triumph, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “And it seems I was correct.” 

“Meaning it could also close the breach itself,” said Cassandra from behind them. 

“Possibly,” he said, with a dip of his head in acknowledgement. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” 

The prisoner’s face darkened. As if this had not been good news at all, and more of death sentence. 

_The mark could close it? Does that mean that my mark could, too?_ Echo thought, her mind racing with this new revelation. So many questions burned the tip of her tongue, but how was she supposed to ask them without completely giving herself away? If she even dared to show the mark on her hand, she had a feeling that she would be on the end of the Seeker’s sword before she could even say, ‘Sweet Maker.’ 

“Good to know,” Varric cut in with a broad smirk. He put Bianca back where she belonged on his back before he strode towards the group, and his smirk broaden when he saw Cassandra tense up. “Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever. Varric Tethras,” he said, with a slight bow. “Rogue, storyteller, occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra, who gave him a scornful look for his efforts. 

_Oh, Varric. Only you,_ Echo shook her head, fondly at the dwarf and his antics. 

“Unwelcomed tagalong?” The prisoner questioned. 

“Technically,” Varric said, with a shrug, “I’m a prisoner just like you.” 

Cassandra pinched her brow, and took a moment to ask the Maker for patience. “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine,” Cassandra said, darkly. “Clearly that is no longer necessary.” 

“Yet here I am. Lucky for you,” Varric retorted, with a smile. “Considering current events and all.” 

Cassandra sighed, then her dark gaze flickered up to Echo. “Miss Harper…I did not expect to find you up here,” the Seeker stated, with a light frown. 

“I live to surprise,” Echo said, with a hollow smile. It was frankly a little worrying that Cassandra remembered her, at all. She had hoped to be nothing more than a random face to the Seeker, but it seemed hope was not on her side. “Varric, is Bianca alright?” She said, to divert attention from herself. “I thought I saw her get scratched.” 

“Nope. She is as good as gold,” Varric said, proudly. 

“That’s an interesting crossbow,” the prisoner said. He looked at Cassandra, Solas, Echo with distaste, but he looked at Varric like he was contemplating murder. 

“Ahh, isn’t she?” The dwarf sighed with an affection and fondness one usually reserved for a lover, and glanced over his shoulder at the beautiful crossbow. He didn’t seemed deterred by the prisoner’s looks at all. “Bianca and I have been through a lot together. And she’ll be great company in the valley.” 

“Absolutely not!” The warrior declared, glaring at the dwarf. She took a step forward, and sighed heavily. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…” 

“Have you been in the valley lately Seeker?” Varric asked, with a light shake of his head. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” 

Cassandra let out a disgusted noise, but she did not argue further. Perhaps she saw the wisdom of Varric’s words. _Or perhaps,_ Echo thought, with a twinge of amusement, _she intended to use him as a human shield._ If she had been a braver woman, she would have said so outloud. However, she had no desire to get on the Seeker’s bad side. 

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” said Solas, to the prisoner. “I am pleased to see you still live.” 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,’” said Varric dryly. 

“Ah. I see.” The dwarf stated, gruffly. His expression was neither pleasant nor inviting. Guarded like a rabid animal that had been cornered and waiting to strike. He didn’t seem to want to be here, and if Cassandra had led him up the mountain, Echo didn’t think he would be here at all. 

Echo arched a brow and looked over at Solas, thoughtfully. “You seem to know a great deal about it all,” she commented, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the dwarf clench and unclench his fist. Her own mark echoed the pain that he no doubt felt. 

“Solas is an apostate and well versed in such matters,” Cassandra commented, though her eyes stared at Echo curiously. However, whatever questions she may have had, she did not ask. For the time being, that was. 

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas said, a light chastisement in his voice. He then cast his gaze towards Echo, a slight quirk of his lips. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any circle mage.” 

“That’s why you came to offer whatever help you could,” Echo guessed. 

“Yes. The Breach is a threat that no one can ignore. If it is not closed we are all doomed regardless of origin,” Solas commented, reasonably. 

“And what will you do once this is over?” she asked him lightly. She could see the hint of approval that played upon the sides of his lips in a small smile. 

“One hopes those in power will remember who helped,” he said, simply as it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And who did not.” He looked over to the Seeker. “Cassandra, you should know the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. As a dwarf, he should not be able to wield any magic, but I would it difficult to believe that even a mage to possess such power.” 

“Understood,” Cassandra said, voice grim and her expression troubled. “We must get to the forward camp quickly. There is not a moment to spare.” 

“Well,” sighed Varric with a half hearted shrug, “Bianca’s excited.” The mountain path was much easier when going down. The air was easier to breath, but Echo had to take care with her steps. With the snow clumped to the bottom of her boots, Echo could feel the lack of traction she had. The last thing she wanted was to face plant into snow. She had a feeling if she did, she would not be getting back up. 

“So let me guess,” Varric mused, casually as they made their way along the path, his eyes pinned to the back of the prisoner, “surface dwarf, maybe part of the carta?” 

Tension flared up along her spine at the word, and Echo remembered with perfect clarity the last time she had encountered the carta. “For our sake’s I hope not,” she muttered, quietly. Not quietly enough it seemed because Solas arched a brow in her direction. She looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Edric was expressionless. “What makes you say that?” 

“I tell a proper Orzammar dwarf from twenty paces. Also, you have that shifty smuggler look to you,” Varric stated, pleasantly without a lick of shame in his voice. However, there was a hard look in his eyes as he studied the other dwarf. 

Echo pursed her lips together, trying to hide her worry and fiddled with the string on her bow. Varric didn’t judge likely. In fact, Varric was one of the least judgmental people she had ever met and the fact that he was wary of this dwarf put Echo even more on edge. Varric knew something about this dwarf, she was sure of it. 

“I’m not the only one with a shift smuggler look,” Edric stated, a slight edge to his words. His expression didn’t crack though. It was still that same hollow and cold look that made Echo’s skin itch. 

“Varric did not destroy the conclave,” Cassandra interjected, blandly. Her expression was an interesting one. She apparently did like having to defend Varric to anyone, but she did it anyways. 

_My esteem has gone up for you, Seeker,_ Echo thought, with a subtle twitch to her lips. Her mismatched eyes flickered from tree to tree and her stomach clenched when they came upon a wrecked carriage. Flames licked the wood, and the bodies of the people were strung across the ground like broken little dolls. Bile burnt up the back of Echo’s throat, and she choked out, “Dear God…” 

“Maker’s breath,” Varris hissed out. 

“They must have been innocents. Flocking to see the proceedings of the conclave, and caught in the crossfire,” Cassandra spoke, her face twisted with sympathy and anger for the life lost here. 

“There is little we could do for them now,” Solas said, being the voice of reason. “The only hope to avenging them is to seal the Breach.” 

“And to find those responsible,” Cassandra said, her chest puffing out and her dark eyes filled with a righteous fury. “Let us continue. Solas is right. There is nothing we can do for them now.” 

Echo trailed the back of the group and walked over a broken wheel when she slipped. Solas who was closest to her caught her elbow, and steadied her. Her magic welled up inside of her and she felt the mark stretch up lazily like a cat looking to be stroke by its owner, but she had little time to appreciate the effect Solas had on her when she looked down at her feet. Hidden by the burnt wood, was a body of a young girl and she had accidentally stepped on her hair. It hit with more force than she could have imagined, staring at a baby faced girl. She could not be more than twelve years old. 

Echo couldn’t explain the despair that rushed through her. It was something that could not be defined. It was like a vacuum had been created inside of her and was filled with grief. “I st-tepped on her h-hair,” Echo voice cracked, and her cheeked heated with shame. She had managed to hold back the horror and panic, but when she realized that she had stepped on this woman’s hair on accident it revealed a crack in the dam. 

Echo could feel her emotions threaten to flood forth, and lifted her gaze to Solas. She wished she hadn’t because that soft and quiet understanding made the knot in the back of her throat grow into a single sob. Her knuckles were white as she curled them tighter around her bow, and she felt her mark twist in a way that was becoming familiar to her. Just another blow to her carefully laid composure. “I need air.” 

“Then breathe,” Solas told her, the rhythm of his voice tugging at something in the pit of her chest. 

And she did. It wasn’t until he said that she realized that she had been practically holding her breath, and a shudder ran down her spine. Her teeth gnashed together, and she stared through the snow storm to the rest of the group up ahead. “W-we…” She cleared her throat roughly. She looked up to see Cassandra looked at her with sympathy and Varric looked at her with kind eyes. 

“Are we done here?” The prisoner snapped. “There is a bloody hole in the sky.” 

Varric turned, with a cutting remark on his lips when Echo interrupted him. “No. He’s right. We need to go on. We can’t let…let ourselves get upset. Not right now,” she stated, drawing in a deep breath. 

Solas opened his mouth, then his lips pressed together in a firm line. He swept one last pensive look across her face before his hand slid away from her arm, and he nodded. 

“Help! Help! We need a healer!” A voice came form nearby, jolting everyone back into the present. 

“What now?” The prisoner growled out. 

The group followed the shouts to a nearby house where two soldiers were evacuating a family, and there seemed to be someone injured upon the ground. “What happened?” Cassandra demanded, upon arriving at the scene. 

The soldier immediately snapped to attention at sight of the Seeker. Apparently her reputation proceeded her. “We were evacuating civilians from the houses when demons attacked. This young man put himself between his sister, and a demon. We are…aren’t healers, we don’t know…” 

The young man laid upon the ground, a pitchfork of all things laying nearby. It was obvious he tried to fight back with all that he had available. His younger sister was crying, being poorly comforted by an equally upset mother. Claw marks ran down the length of his torso, but none deep enough to be life threatening. The demon claw that pierced into his upper thigh however was another thing entirely. 

“Harper, you are healer, are you not?” Cassandra pinned her with dark, accessing eyes. 

“I…I have some training, yes,” Echo nodded. 

“Can you help him?” Cassandra gestured to the injured man. 

“I can try,” Echo said, with a light frown. “Removing the claw will be painful,” she spoke, her eyes scanned the area of the wound. It was dangerous close to the main artery in the leg, and one wrong move could have this man bled out in seconds. 

Cassandra reached for the claw when Echo put a hand on her shoulder to halt the motion. “Wait. If you pull that out, he’ll bleed to death within minutes. While I know magic can work some miracles, perhaps we should create a tourniquet just in case,” Echo suggested, her voice held a quiet tremble. This…this battle, this _war_ was much harsher reality than she had tried to mentally prepare herself for. 

“This is a waste of time,” the dwarf scoffed, darkly. 

“Stuff it, Edric,” Varric snapped. 

The prisoner, Edric, blinked shocked. 

“Yeah, I remember you, too,” Varric said, his expression dark. Which was a scary thing because Varric didn’t get angry, or snarl at people. 

Filing Varric’s reaction away for later, Echo glared at the prisoner. “Saving a life is never a waste of time,” she hissed, her upper lip curled. “I need some cloth. Any will do, but leather would be better. It’s more durable, and sturdy.” 

One of the soldiers handed over a piece of canine leather, and using a knife, Echo made a strip into a good size band. “My grandmother told me a story once,” Echo licked her dry lips as she pulled the band tighter around the young man’s leg to fashion a tourniquet. “Would you like to hear it?” She asked, and she didn’t wait for the soldier’s reply. Something for a distraction was needed and not just for the soldier. “An old Chasind man,” she changed, for the term “Cherokee” would be lost on them and take too long to explain, “was teaching his grandson about life.” 

The young man choked, his lips trembled as Cassandra started to carefully pull the claw free from his leg once the tourniquet was set. Echo swallowed harshly, blinking away tears at the man’s obvious pain and put her hand in his as Solas began to heal him. “‘A fight is going on inside of me,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.’” 

Solas’s fingers twitched, and his lips dipped downward. His blue eyes went dark with shadows, and his jaw ticked ever so slightly. Echo barely noticed his reaction to focused on the injured man, and she continued, keeping her voice soft and soothing, “‘One is evil—he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is good—he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside of you—and inside of every other person, too.’” 

As soon as the young man’s wound was healed, and his pain eased, he finally passed out. Echo watched for several moments as the glow from Solas’s hands abated and let out a deep breath when she saw the soldier’s chest rise and fall. _He’ll live. He’ll live._

Cassandra looked relieved as well. “Good. You two,” she ordered the nearby soldiers, “help carry him down the mountain and get the family to safety. The path is clear for the time being.” 

“Right away, Lady Cassandra,” the two soldiers saluted, and did as they were ordered. The mother sobbing her thanks all the while. 

Cassandra nodded at them as they passed before she turned towards the prisoner, Edric, and spoke, “We should get moving.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Edric stated, coldly. He gave Echo a dark look as if blaming her for this entire mess, and her fingers tightened around her bow as she picked it up off the ground. She was tempted to shoot that look right off his face. She didn’t trust this dwarf as far as she could throw him, and she had a feeling neither did anyone else. Especially Cassandra who kept a hand on her sword, and her hawk-like eyes pinned to his back as they started up the path once more. 

Echo sighed, raking a hand through her hair. _What I have gotten myself into?_ She thought, not for the first time. She went to follow when a hand grasped her wrist, startling her in more ways than one. There was no shock to dull the sensation, or shove to the background of her mind. Instead, she was confronted with it all head on. A gush of air left her as her head spun, suddenly light headed as her magic pressed against the chains that she had leashed tightly around it to keep it at bay. It wasn’t what she would call painful, but nor was it a feeling she was comfortable. It felt like a…glow, as strange as that may seem. Warm and seeking, like fingers searching for a hand that would settle between hers like a missing piece of the puzzle. 

The mark on her hand reacted. Not enough to glow, or be noticeable. Not after the glove and wrap that she put into hiding it. However, she felt it pressed against the seams of her skin and nerves when Solas’s hand had wrapped around hers. His thumb brushed along her bare knuckles, and his expression was thoughtful as his intense blue eyes flickered across her face. “Who won?” Solas questioned, his voice quiet and grave. His expression reminded her of Zachary Quinto’s Spock right before he said, ‘Fascinating’ and she found the comparison more amusing than she probably should. 

“Who won what?” She asked, mildly confused. She gently tugged her hand free from his, but the feeling of his thumb brushing against the back of her hand was not so easily dispelled. It lingered as imprinted there as a gentle and tingling warmth, and the mark of her hand settled. The butterflies in her stomach however, were not so easily settled. 

“The wolves,” Solas elaborated, a twist of his lips. One that had nothing do with amusement, and looked like he confronting the conundrum that was the universe. His nostrils flared, and his chin dipped downward ever so slightly. There is something almost predatory about him now, though why that suddenly occurs to her she couldn’t place a finger on to save her life. Only that the back of her hairs lifted in silent warning, and she is keenly aware there was only mere inches between them. “Which of them won?” 

Echo blinked slowly, her head cocked the side. Her eyes examined him for a heartbeat, then she let out a slow breath. “The one that you feed,” she told him, softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The story that Echo tells is called, "A Tale of Two Wolves". And yes, if the dwarf was an Inquisitor then he would be the evil inquisitor that only cared for his own power, if you couldn't tell. Don't worry, I have plans, lol._
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>  _Explanations: 1.)_ The shadows aren’t demons. They are the Shadow Warriors from Dragon Age II only much more stronger in the Fade, than they are in Thedas. They are ancient elves who went into the sleep before the Veil and got trapped and could not find their way out in the Fade that had been changed. The reason no one has seen them in the Fade is because they are attached to Black City and few venture close to there. And outside of the Fade, only the foolish disturb Ancient Elven ruins in which similar shadows linger. This will be further elaborated down the road.
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>  _2.)_ Anyways, I theorize that the Fade became a broken place after the Veil, which is why it looks like a broken world like it literally had been blown apart and only those who knew it for what it was could see its true beauty once more. Of course, with the Chantry putting the fear of magic and Fade is to an extent what you perceive, very few can find that beauty. Which is what Wisdom is telling Echo in a roundabout way.
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>  _3.)_ Is this the same Wisdom that is friends with Solas? No, it is not. Originally, it started that way in my head, but I didn’t want Solas to figure out Echo too easy. So nope, it is not the same Wisdom and you’ll see why in next chapter.
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>  _4.)_ If the dialogue that the dark voice sounds familiar, it is probably because it is. It is from Fable 3, from the Crawler. That part in the game was when I was like finally, it's going to get good. Through the whole scene where the Crawler taunts you, it made my hair stand up on end and was easily the best part of the game. It was a pretty good game, just not epic as it could have been.


	4. All Eyes On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echo's path separates from the group, and sets her a path she didn't see coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel, seraphem31, moiha, wolfzero12, Asha_revas, Opiesterling, Essindra and chain0425 for bookmarking my story. :D 
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> I want to thank JohskatheWise, GhostTears, Sternenstaub, SleepiPandi, alizar, chain0425, seraphem31 for the comments. :D
> 
> I want to thank catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Asharah_inquisitor, chain0425, and JohskatheWise and the 24 guests for giving me kudos! 
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> Chapter Inspired by "What You Want" by Evanescense

CHAPTER FOUR

“All Eyes On You”

_Echo was certain this was the end._

_Lightning crashed above as thunderous clouds built up impossible quick. Was it shaped by her fear? Or by something else? Echo didn’t know. She couldn’t even give a second thought as the chilling rain cascaded down right on top of her, incessantly._

_Her heart pounded in her chest. Darkness edged around the corners of her vision as she ducked underneath, and her lungs felt too tight. No air came through as she sucked in a breath, and struggled to aim the next arrow. These shadow warriors or monsters or what they were would_ not stop _. There were relentless in their attacks. Each swipe of their blades seemed to tear at her soul and leave her weaker each time. Her arms trembled, and she released another arrow. Another enemy down, but there were still so many._

_A blade slashed through her side, and a scream of pain ripped through her throat as she fell to her knees. Blood splattered to the ground, and her heart was up in her throat as she struggled to hold onto to consciousness. In was in the moment that Echo was certain that she was going to die, and a million regret flooded to the surface of her mind too quickly for her to pick on out as she saw yellow eyes bore into hers._

_Then a golden blade slashed down through the shadow reaching to tear her heart out, and the shadow faded like it had never been there. Echo made a choked noise of shock, and she lifted her gaze to stare in shock at a new spirit that had come to her defense. “On you feet, sister,” the spirit’s booming voice shouted, like Chris Hemsworth’s Thor’s came from her right to be heard over the violent gale. Standing by her side was a spirit dressed in armor with a two handed sword, and it glowed like the color of gold. “Your battle is not yet won.”_

_Warmth spread from the hand on her shoulder, and the crippling fatigue that had nearly overwhelmed her was swept away. Her heartbeat grew strong as life flooded back into her limbs, and she steeled her resolve. Somehow, some way, she was back on her feet with another arrow draw, and fired it down at the shadow warriors that had started to pick themselves off the ground. It hit the warrior like a bolt of lightning and the shadow dispersed. But where there was one down, there were still many more to go._

_Not that the spirit warrior was intimidated. No, the spirit threw himself--for it did seem to have a more male personality, if a spirit could be so--into the fray like a man possessed. Each attack was as brutal as it was efficient, meant to end the shadow’s attack before it restart._

_Echo steadied her bow, giving him cover when the shadows turned their attention on him. Her breath was a heavy knot in her throat, and she held it tight as her arm ache as she pulled back arrow after arrow, but she did not dare to slow. She knew she had to keep going, no matter what. If she faltered again, it would be the end of her, and dream or no, she did not wish to die._

_It seemed like eternity has passed right before her eyes until the last shadow fell, and Echo felt tears of relief welled up in her eyes and the arrow that she had drawn back, fell to the ground. Her knees wobbled beneath her, and she bent over to catch her breath when the warrior spirit came to her side. “Th-thank you,” she said, breathlessly. “If you hadn’t shown up…”_

_“You are most welcome, little light. I am a spirit of Valor, my dear lady,” the warrior spirit’s voice boomed, echoing off the surrounding stones. “I sensed your plight, and gladly offered my aid.”_

_“It is appreciated, Valor,” Wisdom said, grateful._

_Valor bowed, gracefully. He then straightened, and turned his head towards Echo. “Your skills is in battle are a bit rusty as they say, but they will come back over time. It is a great joy to find one such as yourself in the Fade. It is not often that we have a child returned to us whole and bright.”_

_“I’m not sure I understand,” Echo said, slowly._

“You understand nothing. One who knows nothing can never understand…the lost little lamb that comes for the slaughter,” _the voice rumbled above, mockingly._ “Accept your death now…it is so much easier than what is to come.” 

_Valor went tense, his hands tightening his hold on his sword. “So…he covets her for his own then,” Valor commented, seriously. “Blood is a powerful motivator, even here.”_

_“Blood? What does blood have to do with this?” Echo said, scratching the side of her chin then shuddering when dried flecks of black came off onto her nails._ Nasty, _she thought, suppressing her gag reflex._

 _“Have a care, Valor,” Wisdom chided, lightly. “Without her memories, she is in a fragile state.”_

_“Hey! I am not some fragile flower,” Echo snapped, indignantly. Her cheeks puffed out with a harsh breath, and her chest trembled. “I think that I have been doing pretty damn well considering the circumstance. This isn’t everyday stuff, and I…” She sighed, and shook her head. A knuckle white grip on her bow, and her throat bobbed. “I am arguing with myself. This is just a dream, all in my head and you are figments of my imagination. Conjured up by subconscious to help work out my daily problems which means…I am arguing with myself.”_

“You think yourself strong? You think yourself wise? You are a _fragile_ thing…You and your kind dissolve so easily…let me show how you will never escape the darkness. It flocks to you, Echo…it always will…” _The disembodied voice whispered, with a low, oily chuckle that reverberated all around them._

_A perturbed expression settled upon Echo’s face as she looked up at the sky with a heavy frown. “It said my name like a dirty word,” she said, plaintively._

“Echo…” 

_“It did it again,” said Echo, her jaw tightened. Sweat dripped down the side of her cheek making it itch uncomfortably, and wiped her face with her sleeve after giving a sniff. “Can we go? I don’t think that…” She faltered, raising her head to look straight at Wisdom and she choked down her rising panic. “I don’t think that is coming from me, and I really don’t want to know where it is coming from.”_

_“No, you really don’t,” Wisdom agreed, grimly. The spirit lifted up her palm, and the pathway that had been blocked opened up._

_“Oh! There you are!” Curiosity chirped, brightly. “I’m glad that you were okay! That was really scary! Especially when everything started to go dark. That wasn’t good.”_

_“Curiosity, did you find the path?” Wisdom inquired, gently reminding the young spirit of why they were here._

_“Oh, yes, it’s just this way. It was hidden very, very well,” Curiosity explained, nodding excitedly. “I can show you the way.”_

_“I do not believe that to be a good idea. Curiosity has no place amongst dark things, and dark things there will be upon the path ahead of us,” Valor stated, firmly._

_“But I want to see it, too,” Curiosity pouted._

_Echo’s gaze darted between the three spirits, and she frowned lightly. “What seems to be the problem?” She asked, confused._

_Wisdom sighed. “Curiosity is a delicate nature. Almost as delicate as compassion or hope. It can be easily allowed to flourish under gentle encouragement, or can be easily stifled and snuffed out completely. Valor isn’t certain that Curiosity can make this journey,” said the purple spirit, with a light frown. It was obvious that this had been a concern of Wisdom’s as well, but the spirit hadn’t voiced it._

_“I can help! I find things out because I look for them! Every nook and cranny! I found the path, didn’t I?” Curiosity defended itself._

_“That is true,” Wisdom conceded. “Very well. Stay for now, Curiosity, but if the dark returns you must leave. Do you understand?”_. 

_Curiosity nodded, brightly._

_Despite the circumstance, Echo found herself smiling. Something about the way Curiosity acted made Echo feel wistful for her childhood as strange as that may seem. “What is this path? Why is it so important?” Echo wondered, out loud._

_“Home?” Echo frowned, deeply. That should had been reassuring, but the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach grew tenfold. “You mean if I get there I will wake up?”_

_“Yes,” Wisdom said, simply._

_“That sounds…easy,” Echo commented, slowly._

_“It will be anything but,” Valor stated, seriously. “Stay on your guard, young Echo. Enemies still lurked in the shadow, and they will not let you so easily slip from their grasp.”_

_“Oh, fun,” Echo said, deadpanned._

_“Not really,” Curiosity disagreed, not understanding that Echo was being sarcastic._

_Echo gave a mirthless chuckle._

“Do you think laughter will erode away you fear, child? Do you think can outrun them?” _The voice crooned from above._ “Your fears will swallow you whole, and extinguish your light. It offends us greatly.” 

_The voice raked against Echo’s ears like nails upon the chalkboard, and she glowered up at the sky. “Don’t suppose you can just get rid of that voice, can you? It’s creepy and annoying,” Echo said, looking over at the three spirits. All of them shook their heads, and she sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”_

“Ah, are we at the witty banter part? The false bravo that is supposed to save the day? Petulant child, you think your words can help spare your fate?” _The voice spoke, tone scathing._ “We do not want your words…we want your screams.” 

_Echo recoiled, as if physical slapped. A sick feeling rose in the back of her throat like bile, and she barely kept herself from throwing up._ What the hell is that supposed? _Echo thought, with a shudder. A gentle hand was placed on her arm, and she found Wisdom at her side._

_“Pay it no heed,” Wisdom said, gently. “There is still miles to go.”_

* * *

The ice on the wind stung her eyes, and she had to blink back the tears that welled up because of it. Echo breathed through her nose, her lips pressed tightly together as she felt burn of exertion in her limbs would become limp like over cooked noodles. She trudged up the mountain, her fingers going numb from a mixture of holding her bow too tight and the cold. The only warm she had was the mark on the palm of her hand that was burning like an inferno the closer they got the ever growing Breach. 

“I hope Leliana made it through this,” Cassandra breathed out, troubled. There seemed to be a never ending trail of dead up the mountain, and the Seeker wondered if they would ever be able to identify them all. It seemed an impossible task, much like sealing the Breach. 

“She’s resourceful, Seeker,” Varric reassured her, wiping the blood off his cheek with a grimace. “She’ll be just fine.” 

“We shall see for ourselves soon enough,” Solas commented, his eyes narrowed against the harsh wind. He had been quiet, lost in thought after Echo’s tale. It had struck too close for comfort, and he found that his focus on the Breach slowly shifting to focus upon Echo. He shook his head in an effort to clear his mind, and continued, “We are almost at the forward camp.” 

“Thank God,” Echo said, without thought. 

Cassandra frowned, glancing over her shoulder. “What an odd expression,” she said, her tone mildly curious. 

Echo’s foot slipped ever so slightly in the snow, but she managed to keep herself from face planting in it. It took her only a moment to register her mistake, and she pressed her lips together. She had to say something. To keep silent would be the worst thing to do. “Varric often tells me the same thing,” she said, with a shrug and half smile. “Apparently, it’s hard to keep up with my idioms.” 

“It’s not my fault that you say the strangest things,” said Varric, lips upturned in a smirk. “And no one can make heads or tails of them half the time. Some of them even leave me speechless.” 

Echo grinned, despite how her teeth chatted together. She would never get used to the cold. She was a warm natured person, and had a long standing love affair with blankets. “It keeps people guessing,” Echo said, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. It was quickly snuffed out by shouts from the hilltop above. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

“Great,” Edric scowled. “What now?” 

There trudged up the hill when she felt the mark on her palm start to pull taunt and a tingling spread down to the tips of her fingers right before the loud crack and flash of green became barely visible over the edge of the hilltop. 

“Another rift!” Cassandra shouted, unsheathing her sword and she charged up the hill. Solas was only a step behind her, his ice magic creating an armor of ice around him, and it didn’t slow him down in the slightest. 

“Shit never stops,” Varric grumbled, pulling Bianca off of his back and rushing up the hill. “At least, Bianca is going to be happy.” 

Only Edric and Echo stood alone at the foot of the hill. Echo, unfortunately, had dealings with shady people while in Kirkwall and that made her wary of the shifty eyed look that Edric got on his face when the rest of the group left, like he might run at any given second. She pulled back an arrow, and her arms taunt to pull it up in a split second if he did so. “After you,” she said, her voice cold. 

Edric glared at her, but pulled his daggers free and turned, rushing up the mountain. Echo followed, with an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. The sounds of battle were ones she was unlikely to forget. She came upon a grizzly scene of a Shade tearing out a soldier’s throat. Blood splattered to the ground, a bright crimson stain that contrasted the bright snow. 

Echo only had a moment to stand there in shock when the Shade turned it’s attention on Edric and herself. _Balls,_ Echo swore internally. 

Edric shot her a look, then used his rogue skills to expertly dodge around the Shade, leaving the demon only target. “Bastard,” she hissed underneath her breath, sparing him only a quick glower and she aimed her arrow. It struck true, and the Shade shrieked, clawing at its darted around to put a large piece of rubble between her and the demon. Distance was an archer’s best friend. 

Cassandra was ten feet away, and had placed herself between the creatures and the soldier who were beat down while Varric covered her with the help of Bianca. 

Ice spikes shot up from the ground as Solas drew up his out stretched hand and thrust it upward, curling his fingers sharply into a fist. Magic came off of him, whipping around like the untamed storm as he prepared for another attack. 

Echo’s jaw clenched. Another arrow went into the Shade, and it was only just keeping it out of arm’s reach. She rolled out of the way of the Shade and dropped her bow to pull out her daggers. She got to her feet, and whirled around plunging them deep into the Shade’s chest. Her expression a snarl as she them and watched with grim satisfaction as it crumbled away into nothingness. A harsh breath fell from her lips, and she turned around only to find herself face to face with another Shade. 

“Echo!” She heard Varric’s shout, and saw him reload Bianca, but it was too little, too late. 

Echo clenched her eyes shut, tightly and prepared to feel pain when she heard the crackle of ice. A gust of cold blasted across her face and after a moment, she hesitantly pulled her eyes open. The Shade was completely encased in ice, and she shuddered, taking a step backwards. Her eyes flickered from the frozen Shade to the mage. She stood there breathing heavily staring at the apostate with a look of awe. “You saved me,” she said, like she could barely believe it. 

Solas’s blue gaze looked over his handy work before they met Echo’s. His brows furrowed, enhancing the slight scar above his right brow before he inclined his head towards her. He then turned towards Edric, and spoke, “You must seal it. Before more come through.” 

Edric cast the dwarf a dark look, but he stepped towards the swirling rift. He stretched out his palm, and just like before a beam a crackling green light between the prisoner and rift. Echo felt her breath catch in her throat, the palm of her right hand _burned._ She felt a painful knot build in the back of her throat, and she felt her mana bubble up within her. 

It was the first time she had a moment to realize that the magic of the rift _called_ to her. It sang to her, tugged at the magic underneath her skin and the scariest thing of all, it _felt right._ She flinched back when the magic stitched the first together and shattered out of existence. _Another rift closed,_ Echo thought, a breath of relief and retrieved her bow from the ground. 

“Good,” Cassandra echoed, her thought only a half a second later. “Another rift closed. Open the gates,” she called out to the soldiers, and they did as they were bid. 

Varric huffed. “Let’s hope its works on the big one.” 

It was in that moment that Echo could appreciate the faint fear that settled upon Edric’s face. Anyone in his shoes would have to be. Anyone in her shoes, too. That didn’t make her like him, she had a feeling he would try to save himself if given the chance and most likely at the expense of someone else’s life. _But isn’t that what you are doing? By hiding your mark_ She questioned as she followed the others through the gate. Her brows pinched together. _But my motivations are different, even if survival stands at the core._

Her eyes dated across Solas’s striking profile, and she admired the silent strength in which he held himself. She felt that fluttered in stomach again. Heat rushed up her cheeks, and she said, quietly, “Thank you.” 

“Hmm?” Solas lifted a questioning brow. 

“For saving me. Back there,” Echo said, awkwardly. “From the Shade.” 

“Yeah, that was a pretty close call, wasn’t it, Mockingbird?” Varric said, with a twinge of humor to hide the worry lines that crinkled around the edges of his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be reminding me of it for years to come,” she told him, drolly. She gave a sigh and raised her head to meet the mage’s eyes. There was something about his face that struck a familiar cord within her memory, though she couldn’t pick out what it exactly was. His eyes were was captivated her the most. His eyes were the color of the sky on a cloudless day with flecks of dark blue like the oncoming thunderhead, and they seemed misplaced on his face. Though he was in his thirties, maybe even late thirties, his eyes were still too old for his face and made Echo’s heart tightened in her chest for some reason she could not explain. “I’m grateful that you stop the Shade. If you hadn’t, well, it wouldn’t have been good of that I’m sure. Thank you.” 

Solas seemed surprised by her thanks as if no one had ever thanked him before in his entire his life. His brows furrowed, and his gaze looked away for a brief moment before he looked back at her. “You are welcome,” he replied, after a long pause. “I have a wonder, if you would indulge me?” 

_Danger, Will Robinson. Danger._ A voice from the back of her mind started shouting, and suddenly Echo felt that she was in very dangerous water. Her mind raced with questions, and she blinked her wide eyes at him. A ’no’ formed on the back of her tongue, but instead what came out was, “What do you want to know?” She was going to rip out her tongue, and burn it. 

“You are out of your element here. It is obvious that you are no warrior, nor rogue though you favor the style of one. You have fought before, but never in a battle of this magnitude,” Solas assessed, his eyes glanced around the crowd of people that moved around the bridge. Pale shaken faces surrounded him, and the uncomfortable feeling of guilt gnawed at him from the inside out. The Veil needed to come down, and deemed whatever the loss was necessary. He should have known better, known how maniacal megalomaniacs such as the darkspawn magister thought. He meant to make a statement with the Divine’s death, that he risen where the leader of the Andrastian faith fell. With the gathering of people the Conclave had brought forth, the loss of life was worse than Solas had ever imagined. And now that he was faced with the ugliness of his decision, he felt a hesitation that he had not felt in hundred upon hundreds of years. _Foolish wolf,_ he chided himself, but he could not dwell upon it. The only way to start to mend his mistake was to help seal the Breach, and from there he would decide what to do next. 

Echo lips pursed, her jaw trembled when she saw a woman collapse with a grief stricken cry when a soldier breathed his last breath. A heavy pained sighed worked it’s way up her chest, and she turned her gaze forward, trying to press the rest of the work out. “That’s all very true, but none of that was a question?” She asked, her right eyebrow arched upward. 

“My question is…why come up here at all? Would your skills not be better used down in the valley tending to the wounded?” Solas inquired, his tone far from judgmental as they crossed the bridge. He was merely curious yet something about him made Echo’s “brain itch”, a term coined by a former friend from Earth. 

It didn’t help at all that his voice was smooth like an age scotch that just made her want to relax and soak it in. Flames licked up her neck and into her cheeks, her face did an impression of a tomato because she did not need to be thinking of his voice that way. Those thoughts led to other thoughts and the sky was literally coming down on top of them. _Of all the times for my libido to say hello,_ Echo cleared her throat, and hoped Varric hadn’t notice. _He probably would, the sneaky dwarf._

Her brows furrowed as she gave what he had asked a good long moment of thought. “I guess I just know this is where I needed to be. I couldn’t keep staring up at the Breach and do nothing,” she told him, softly. Her lips turned down into a frown, and her right hand clenched into a tight fist. The mark hummed, an incessant reminder of the ever growing danger if the Breach in the sky wasn’t a big indicator in itself. “It’s…it’s the right thing to do.” 

“That kind of selfless is what got you in trouble before, Mockingbird,” Varric commented, his eyes set on the man that Leliana was having a “heated discussion” with just up ahead. 

“Hypocrite,” Echo said, flatly. 

“Nobody is perfect,” Varric retorted, without batting an eye. 

Echo snorted, shaking her head. A brief upturn of Solas’s lips gave away his amusement, but it was gone by the time that arrived at the Chantry tent. 

“Ah, here they come,” the Chantry man commented, his haggard face twisted up in a sneer. 

“You made it,” Leliana looked a bit relieved as she turned to face the group and inclined her head towards Cassandra. “Chancellor Roderick, this is—” 

“I know who he is,” Chancellor Roderick cut off the Spymaster sharply. 

“Uh-oh,” Varric said, underneath his breath. “I smell trouble.” 

Echo was inclined to agree, smothering the smile that threatened to spread across her face at Varric’s assessment. Cassandra made a huff, while Solas’s lips merely twitched. Edric merely stared stonily at the Chancellor like he was imagining bashing his head in. 

Chancellor Roderick stepped forward. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royueax to face execution for his crimes against not only the Divine, but all of Thedas.” 

Cassandra’s face darkened like a storm cloud right before it decided to unleash a hellish downpour, and she straightened her spine so she could look down at the Chancellor with a glare that would have sent darkspawn scurrying back into the Deep Roads. “Order me?” She growled out, her tone scathing. “You? You are nothing more than a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!” 

“And you nothing more than a common _thug_ ,” Chancellor Roderick countered, his tone just as venomously. His beady eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “But a thug, who supposedly serves the Chantry. Or has that changed?” 

Echo would not wish to be in the Chancellor’s shoes right now. She briefly wondered how the Chancellor was still alive. Natural selection should have finished him off a long time ago if he made such poor life decision like pissing Cassandra off. 

Leliana’s violet eyes flashed. “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor,” Leliana corrected, her voice fierce with a grief that she endeavored to hide. Her hands clenched, and her features smoothed out as she gave the Chancellor a look that one usually reserved for a spider. “As you well know.” 

“Justinia is dead,” the Chancellor said, his voice rough with pain and his expression grief stricken. The pallor of his face paled when he said the words out loud as if it made them more real, and he swallowed harshly. “We must select a replacement and obey her rulings on the matter.” 

“Isn’t the closing the Breach the more important thing right now?” Echo couldn’t hold her tongue any longer, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “The Breach isn’t going to wait for you to make up your mind over who the next Divine is. Good people have _died,_ and many more will die if we don’t seal it. Like the entire world will end, will it not? Kind of hard to elect a new Divine if everyone is dead.” 

“First sensible thing you said, knife-ear,” Edric said, his tone too smug when the insult slipped past his lips. “The Breach is the more pressing issue.” 

Echo jerked as if physically struck, and her lips pulled back into a snarl. Only Solas’s hands on her shoulder stopped her from lunging at him, and she stood there trembling with rage. She had taken the ‘knife-ear’ insults with a grain of salt. They were stupid and ignorant people that thought it was a clever, petty insult. Edric did it to purposely demean her as if she were lesser than him, and it raised her hackles more than any other time it had been spat in her direction. 

“Do not allow anger to rule you,” Solas’s voice caressed the shell of her ear, and his hands tightened on her shoulders ever so slightly. Even though her armor, her skin prickled with a heightened awareness and a strange fluttered erupted in her stomach when her body registered the heat from his being so close to her. 

Echo swallowed back the bile on the back of her tongue, and nodded stiffly. There was one last breath of his that blasted across her ear and cheek before he released her shoulders and stepped back. She caught Varric’s smirk out of the corner of her eye, and her cheeks darkened. She foresaw much teasing and innuendos thrown her way in the future. 

“You! You brought this upon us in the first place,” Roderick sneered pointing a finger at Edric. He shook his head, and sighed. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.” 

“If we call a retreat we may never regain the ground we hold now,” the Seeker said, with a firm shake of her head. “We’ve already lost too much in an effort to combat the Breach. I will not let all that death be in vain. We have to stop this before it’s too late.” 

“She is right,” Solas agreed, his expression grim. “If we do not stop the Breach here, then we will not at all.” 

“And how do any of you expect to be able to stop this?” Chancellor Roderick threw his hands into the air, with an incredulous look on his face. “You won’t survive long enough to make it to the Temple. Even with all your soldiers.” 

“For a man of faith, you seem to have lost all hope,” Echo commented, her head tilted slightly. 

“Look at the world around you. Look at the sky, the people, the dead that are piling up? How can a thing like hope exist in a place like this?” Roderick spat, his fears there upon his face for all to see. It was as if all his doubts had been validated by the tear in the sky, and he had nearly lost all faith in the Maker. 

Echo’s first impulse was to be angry with the man. He was a man of the Chantry, a man of faith. The first to be looked to in times as dire as this, and he was waxing on and on about how it was all hopeless. Then her anger simmered, because she saw an unflattering parallel to herself when she first awoke here in Thedas. How the familiar yet completely foreign world frightened her beyond belief, and how she cried out to a God who gave no reply. How her entire life had been tore to shred in a single moment, and forever changed. “The sky is falling down, and we have only once chance at stopping this from getting worse. Should we not take this time to risk all that we are, then when?” Echo questioned, vehemently. She had never been the one to make speeches, but the words welled up inside of her in such a way they could not be contained. “If now is not the time to hope, then when is the time? Because I can think of no better time then now.” 

The Chancellor’s face slacked with shock. Her words impacted him in a way he had not anticipated, and he stood there, his mouth agape in an unattractive fashion. Varric looked a mixture of puzzled, and proud. Edric rolled his eyes, while Solas stared at Echo as if he were searching for some kind of hidden answers that were written on her face. Cassandra and Leliana seemed surprised as well, but Cassandra recovered quickly, taking advantage of the Chancellor’s stupor to press ahead. “We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route,” the Seeker stated, firmly convinced this was the best route. 

“But not the safest,” Leliana objected, arms crossed over her chest. Her lips turned downward into a grim frown, and she pointed up towards the mountain. “Our soldiers can charge as a distraction while we go through the mines in the mountains.” 

“Absolutely not. We lost contact with an entire patrol on that path,” Cassandra shook her head, dismissing the idea. “It’s too great a risk to take.” 

Echo thought it would be worth risk. Working together in her mind would given the best chance at stopping the tear in the sky, but wasn’t sure if she should speak up again. Being an opinionated knife-ear was already going to bring her trouble, she had a feeling deep within her bones. 

Chancellor Roderick sighed. “Listen to me, abandon this madness before more lives are lost,” he pleaded with the Left and Right Hands of the Divine. His plea fell upon deaf ears for as soon as the words came off his lips, the Breach pulsed. Green light shot across the sky followed by a great rumble. 

It was a good thing that everyone had turned to look at Edric whose mark flared brightly. It gave Echo a much needed moment to compose herself as the mark on her palm exploded with mind numbing pain. It felt like someone with jagged nails was raking out all her inside and setting them on fire. Her knees wobbled, knocking together and her teeth gnashed down on the side of her tongue so hard that it drew blood. She flinched back away from the Breach, though that wasn’t too much out of place. Several people jumped, and a couple even screamed. _Relatively unnoticed. Story of my life. Why couldn’t it stay that way?_ The inane crossed her mind, dazedly. 

She swallowed, harshly. A cold sweat broke out along her skin, and she tried to flex her numb fingers. Lights danced behind her shut eyelids, and the urge to be sick rolled in her gut. Pulling her eyes open after a harsh breath, she glared down at her hand. 

“Are you unwell?” Solas asked. 

Echo felt her jaw tremble, and she offered him a wobbly smile as she blinked back pained tears that threatened to roll down her cheek. “Mountain air…gets to me,” was the lame excuse that she gave. The way his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed was a good indication that he didn’t believe her for an instance, but he did not call her out on her lie. 

“You’re asking me what I think?” Edric asked, incredulously. 

Solas hummed underneath his breath before his attention turned back to the prisoner. “You have the mark,” Solas pointed out, smoothly. “Without your mark, approaching the Breach is fundamentally pointless. If anyone reserves the right to weigh into the matter, it would be you.” 

Edric’s brows furrowed as he regarded the people around him with a shrewd and wary gaze. There was a long moment as if he were pondering the choices carefully before he raised his chin. “We charged with soldiers,” he finally said. 

Echo felt her stomach plummeted, but what could she say? Second guess him would only revive the argument once more, and that was a waste of time no one needed. And more importantly one they couldn’t afford. Her lips pursed together, and her eyes flickered towards the mountain path. She could feel the internal debate claw at her chest as her hands curled at her sides. The sick sensation of déjà vu washed over her, and she felt anxiety build upon the back of her tongue. She knew what it felt like to be forgotten, and it was not a fate she would wish on anyone. 

“Then I shall send a group up to the mountain path,” Leliana stated, her lips thinned out. “We cannot leave even the slightest threat unchecked.” 

“I’ll go with them,” the offer left her mouth before she could help it. Yeah, she should get working on finding a way to stop that. 

“You will?” Varric and Cassandra said at the same time. Solas’s gaze flickered with something like disapproval, and Edric looked glad to be rid of her. 

But it was not their reactions that made the hair on the back of her neck rise upon end. Lady Nightingale had a reputation for being intimidating, and Echo could certainly see why as those violet eyes fell upon her. The sister scrutinized her for several moments before she spoke. “Echo Harper, that is your name, is it not? I’ve heard you name mentioned many times many times before in my interactions with Haven’s folk. You are well respected by many.” 

“I’m sure they are trying to be polite,” said Echo, awkwardly. Her cheeks turned red against her will, and her palms grew slick with sweat. She felt the hare snared in the hunter’s trap, heart beating fast and nose twitching. It was not a feeling that she all together cared for. 

Leliana stared at her steadily. “Perhaps. You volunteer for this task?” The spymaster cocked her head to the side, her tone very nonchalant. Too nonchalant. 

Echo fought the urge to shift on the balls of her feet. Why did she have to be one of those people who got twitchy when they are nervous? She let out an even breath, and barely managed to keep her voice calm, “And if I am?” 

Leliana’s lips twitched. “Then your efforts would be appreciated. Two templars Lisette and Marco have also volunteered to go with one of my scouts. That won’t be a problem will it?” 

Echo felt herself go cold, a cold that had nothing to do with the wind or snow. She knows it wasn’t her imagination. She hear the subtle challenge in Leliana’s voice, a silent dare. She had run ins with templars in Kirkwall, and few of them pleasant. What if her magic came too close to the surface? What would these two templars do? Would they take her out, threat or now? It took everything in her to not outwardly show the flash of panic that surged through her at the Sister’s words, but she knew if she took back her offer now, it would only draw unwanted suspicions. She had painted herself into quite the little corner now, didn’t she? 

“Not at all,” Echo said. Her voice, thankfully, did not betray her by shaking or cracking. She held the spymaster’s eyes without blinking which was a feat in and of itself, especially when Leliana smiled. It made the foreboding sensation in her stomach only grow, much and much worse. She had a feeling that the scout would report her every movement back to the good Sister. 

“Excellent,” Sister Leliana stated, pleasantly. “I will let them know.” 

Varric’s lips pursed, the edges of his eyes crinkled was the only show of his displeasure and easily missed. Echo didn’t miss, and her stomach churned, knowing that the rogue was going to have words with for her. _A couple questioning my intelligence of that I am certain,_ she thought, walking away from the group to take a moment to breath. Unfortunately, a not very happy dwarf stalked her steps, and this time it was not Edric. 

“Echo, do you have a death wish?” Varric hissed, when they were a good ways away from the spymaster. 

_Oh, he used my name. That means he is really mad._ “Not at this current point in time, no,” Echo said, with a wry grin. It fell at the unimpressed look he sent her, and her shoulders dropped with a sigh. “I had little choice, Varric. If I suddenly changed my mind because of a couple of templars, it would only look worse.” 

Varric lips thinned out, because he couldn’t exactly argue with that. “Do you think the spymaster knows?” He asked, pointedly not looking at the spymaster. The woman had a creepy sixth sense and so many ears on the walls, Varric wasn’t sure there was a place in Thedas beyond her reach. 

“About my apostasy?” Echo made a nervous noise, something between a laugh and whimper. “Before that little display? I would have said, no, but now I’m thinking that she at least suspects something.” 

“Anyone in Haven know?” Varric questioned. 

“None that would intentionally rat me out,” Echo defended, lightly. 

“People do tons of things unintentionally, Mockingbird,” he pointed out, gruffly. “Like say things they shouldn’t to crafty spies whose job it is to get people to slip up without meaning to.” 

“I…hadn’t thought of that.” A worried frown settled over her features, and she wondered if there was another can of worms just waiting to be opened in her future. “Ugh, I don’t _want_ to think about it. That’s a whole lot of problems that I didn’t need.” 

“It might not have been a big issue if you hadn’t just signed up the mountain path. Why did you volunteer yourself?” Varric asked. “I’m curious if it’s just because of your lack of self-preservation, or if there’s real thought behind it.” 

“Ouch.” She had expected that. Licking her chapped lips, she tilted her head to the side and knocked the snow off her boots idly. “Would you believe me if I said temporary insanity?” Echo asked, seriously. 

“Maybe, but I have feeling it’s more than that,” the rogue stated, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You usual don’t do these kind of things without a good reason. Enlighten me.” 

At first, Echo didn’t know what to say. On a good day, her emotions were nameable. Today wasn’t a good day. She couldn’t explain with clarity why she felt the need to volunteer for the mountain path, and honestly, it probably wasn’t understandable to anyone other than herself. “The truth is…the thought of those people be left forgotten for God knows how long…it bothered me. I know…I know how that feels, Varric,” she said, quietly. Her eyes downcast as she tunneled her fingers through her hair nervously. Her heart clenched at the bad memories that swirled through her mind on a loop of a stormy night five long years ago. “If the roles were reserved, I would pray that someone would come for me.” 

The anger drained slowly from Varric’s face, and his shoulders slumped abruptly like a puppet who’s strings had been snapped. “When you put it like that…” Varric said, sarcastically. 

Echo smiled, slightly. “I know what you mean. I don’t entirely understand it, either. It just feel like something I have to do, that’s all.” 

“I could watch your back,” Varric offered, with a sly smile. “Having Bianca and I there to help with the templars around that might not be a bad idea.” 

“Normally, I would accept aid from you and Bianca in a heartbeat, but I think you should go with Cassandra. Might be good source material for your books, and you can watch Edric’s back,” she said, with a tight smile. Her casual tone held a hint of warning that the dwarf immediately picked up on. 

Understanding flashed in Varric’s eyes, and he nodded. “Fine. Fine. But just so you know if die, I’m telling Hawke that it was from stupidity.” 

“It’s not that far from the truth,” Echo said, with a self-deprecating grin. Her expression turned somber quickly and she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Be careful. The world cannot afford to lose you, Varric Tethras.” 

“Meaning that the world would be in such an uproar over the lose over my witty repertoire and glorious chest hair than it would never recover?” Varric smirked, broadly. “Don’t worry, Mockingbird. I don’t plan on dying today.” 

“No one ever does,” Solas stated, coming to a stop beside them. His approach had been soundless, and had startled Echo visibly. It had also startled Varric, but the rogue was better at guarding his emotions. The elf mage’s blue eyes flickered between them as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Cassandra is ready to head out.” 

“Well, I guess this is it,” Varric sighed. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Echo.” 

Echo laughed. “That doesn’t exactly narrow down the list, Varric. But I’m serious when I’m telling you to please be careful up there. I have a terrible feeling about this, and I’m not just saying that because there’s a hole in the sky trying to kill us all,” Echo whispered out, with apprehension filling her eyes. Her eyes went to Solas’s like a moth drawn to a flame, and . “You be careful as well, Solas. With all the demons about, it’s mages that suffer a greater danger from them than anyone else.” 

Solas blinked, stupefied by her concern, as if it had been the first time in a long time that someone had offered him such and that tugged on her heart in a way that Echo hadn’t thought possible. His eyes sought something within hers, and then his face unexpectedly softened. “And you as well, da’len,” said Solas, his voice smooth and quietly. 

Echo’s face fell, and her entire vision whited out, and an image flashed through her mind. _“Ar lasa mala revas, da’len.” Gentle words whispered, and lips pressed against the crown of her forehead. Magic weaved through the air, and Dirthamen’s vallaslin washed away._ A ragged breath fell from her lips as her vision came back to her, and she looked like she had just stared death in the face. 

“Mockingbird?” Varric said, uncertainly. 

“Yes? Yes, I’m fine,” Echo mumbled, with a shake of her head. She raised her chin, and offered them what an attempt at an encouraging smile. “Mountain air. Better get going. I think Cassandra is mighty tempted to leave without you,” she said, giving the dwarf a lopsided grin. “Wouldn’t want that, now would you?” 

* * *

_The path winded through the Fade, seemingly never ending, but Curiosity assured them that this was the way. They had passed countless structures, both beautiful and nightmarish as well as dreams. So many dreams. Countless dreams. Some about gentle, warm memories. Some about cold, and fear. Some about love, and others born out of lust. It was a place that Echo would have loved to explore, to dig deeper into if it was not for the voice that taunted them every step of the way._

“You carry a funeral torch…you came here to die…we sing your dirge…can you hear us singing?” _The voice chuckled, darkly._ “Do you feel the music flowing through your veins? That is our heartbeat. The children put it forward out of love…Do you know how to love? It is the same as dying…” 

_Echo spared the sky a quick glower before she rubbed the tiredness away from her tired eyes more than once. Each moment was becoming a struggle to stay awake and coherent. The tiredness rolled over her in waves, with an undertow that was threatening to swept her feet right and she would drown. She could do without that feeling right now. “Are we close?” Echo asked, flushing slightly. She felt like that kid that kept asking their parent if they were there yet, but her anxiety was mounting with each minute she spent here._

_Because the longer she was here, the less that she could convince herself that this was all in her mind._

_“Nearly!” Curiosity reassured her._

_“Not…to be rude, but isn’t that what you said thirty minutes ago?” Echo questioned, trying to keep her voice polite._

_“We were only a little near there then,” Curiosity said, not in the slightest bothered. “Now we are nearly nearly there.”_

_Echo gave a slight huff of amusement, but it drained from her face leaving her feeling older than she had ever felt before. She wanted to leave this place. To just go home to her parents, to hang out with her best friend Ash, and sleep for an entire week. Her heart sank, and she wondered what if she _didn’t_ wake up? What if she never saw any of them ever again?_

“Are you thinking of your loved ones now? Of how you will never see them again? They are better off without you. All you did was bring them pain with your pretty lies…” 

_Anger blossomed in her chest, simmering at first but growing hotter with each moment. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. “I don’t suppose if I told it to shut up, it would?” Echo looked over at Wisdom, hopefully._

_“Sadly, no,” Wisdom smiled, patiently. “You should not engage it, at all. To speak to it would only give it a foothold, and more incentive to attack you more than ever before.”_

Foothold? _Echo’s eyebrows climbed into her hairline. What the hell did that mean? It better not mean what she thought it mean, because she had watched enough horror movies and if it was then that was not good. Not good one tiny iota._

_“Here! We’re here!” Curiosity pointed a finger towards a little cliffside, and at the foot of the cliff was a small of a cave. Almost indiscernible with the naked eyes was a purple glint that rippled over the mouth of the cave, and Echo narrowed her eyes following the spirits towards it._

_“Are you sure this is it?” Valor questioned._

_“Yes,” Curiosity beamed._

_“Are we…supposed to go into the cave?” Echo asked, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She didn’t do well in small spaces, and had very bad claustrophobia. The mouth of the cave stood only inches taller than her, and from side to side it was about three feet wide if that._

_“It is the only way,” Wisdom stated, patiently._

_“…damn,” Echo muttered, underneath her breath. Steeling herself against her fear, because she was more scared of the voice coming from seemingly nowhere than small spaces, she moved to enter the cave. Her free hand was stretched out in front of her, and her fingertips brushed against the purple shimmer. It flowed like liquid, and look like see through silk. Sucking in a deep breath, Echo closed her eyes tightly and shoved through it. She jolted, feeling as if she had just plunged through an entire wall of spider webs and fell into a vat of ice all in the second. “Can anyone tell me what exactly that was?” Echo shuddered, slapping at her cheeks trying to remove the nonexistent cobwebs from her face as she turned around to glare at the glowing purple wall._

_“A barrier…” Wisdom began to explain when she saw something in the distance. If spirits could be afraid, then Wisdom looked very afraid._

_Echo followed the purple spirit’s eye line, and felt horror twist in her heart. “Holy shit…” Shadow gaped at the sheer number of shadows that came charging down the Cliffside. There yellow eyes looked like the dying light of a candle in the distance, and there was so many of them…it was impossible to count them all._

_“They are coming, and the barrier will not hold forever,” Wisdom gasped, fearfully. “We must hurry.”_

_Curiosity nodded, and darted into the cave without a second thought. Echo hesitated, and looked over at Valor who turned around abruptly. “What are you doing?” Echo demanded, her heart in her throat._

_“I shall guard the way,” Valor stated, strongly._

_“Valor, you will die,” Echo gaped, appalled. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she stared at the spirit while shaking her head side to side. “There is too many of them out there, and you heard Wisdom. That barrier won’t hold forever!”_

_“If there is any chance for you to succeed, you must have time, little one,” Valor told her, his posture proud and sure._

_Her throat hurt, an unnamable emotion swelled up in the back of her throat. “Y-You don’t even know me…why would you do this for me?” She shook her head. For a moment, she got the impression that all the spirit were sadden by what she said, but she didn’t understand why._

_“I saw your light, little one. A kindred soul amongst the blackness shining like a beacon. It is not in Valor’s nature to stand by idle when an honorable soul is need of aid,” Valor told her, his voice was soft like thunder in the distance. “If my sacrifice can see that you awaken from this place, then it will be enough for this spirit.”_

_“Valor,” Echo whispered out, with a heartsick feeling in the center of her chest._

_“Go now, milady,” Valor bid of her. “If fates be kind, we shall meet once again.”_

_Echo blinked back tears, and nodded, not trusting her voice right then. She reluctantly turned away from the warrior spirit, and ducked further into the cave. Her heart was heavy in her chest, and there was no thought that could ease it._

_“Fight well, Valor,” Wisdom whispered out._

_Valor nodded._

_Wisdom turned, and followed Echo into the heart of the cave. It was a small cavern to say the least, but beautiful with glow worms looking like stars against the ceiling. There was small trail, free of stalagmites that led to two tall wooden doors that couldn’t have looked more out of place. The doors stood, at least, twenty feet in height stood at the end of the way. Intricate carvings of flowers and vines covered it and shimmered golden with what appeared to be another barrier. In the center of the door was no handle, but a smooth circular panel with a golden hand print in the center._

_Echo stood there struck by the familiarity of the door, recalling faintly of drawing something scarily similar for art class._

_“Place your hand upon the door,” said Wisdom, placing a hand on the small of her back and giving her a gentle push forward. “It will only open for you.”_

_“Me?” Echo said, her voice very faint to her ears. Her eyes traced the handprint with an unwavering intensity, and she lifted her quaking hand. Her heart slammed against her ribcage when she pressed her palm flat against the surface of the door, her hand a perfect match for the handprint on the door. An electric current surged through her, and stole the breath from her lungs. A split second later, the doors creaked open by themselves and revealed a hallway. One either side of the hallway, she saw murals of all kinds. One with a shining golden ram, beautiful and gorgeous. A prime example of it’s kind. The next was of a similar animal, but this one deer-like and grotesque and colored dark with edges of red around it. Upon the deer-like animal’s side were people with tattooed face, their faces the picture of misery._

_“These do not belong here,” Wisdom said, a scolding look in Curiosity’s direction._

_“I thought she’d like to see them,” Curiosity said, with a slight pout upon it’s lips._

_Echo didn’t have time to look at pictures, though she did not say this out loud. “So…I just need to go down this hallway and I’ll…wake up?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at Wisdom._

_“Essentially, yes,” Wisdom commented, carefully._

_Echo licked her parched lips, and stepped through the doors. A sense of ease and calm fell over her, and for the first time she had woken up in this strange place did she feel safe. She took a few more steps forward, and Wisdom and Curiosity crossed the threshold. The doors started to ease closed just as an inhuman screech pierced the night._

_Echo whipped around, and her eyes widened as she watched Valor slammed back against the cavern floor. It’s sword sliding out of the spirit’s reach. “Valor!” She cried out, and she saw the spirit lift it’s head weakly just before shadows from every corner of the caverns swirled around together and descended upon him. Valor bellow’s of pain were deafening._

_“Valor!” Echo tried to run back, but the doors slammed shut. A gold light shimmered across them as they sealed tightly with magic, and the sounds of Valor’s screams went completely silent._

_Echo stood there, motionless. Her mouth agape as her mind came to a complete stop unable to process what she had just seen. There had been no blood, no body left behind, and yet it was most traumatic things she had ever seen in her entire life. Echo had never seen death. Her parents had kept her away from all that. She had never been to a funeral, not even her grandmother’s. She had been told her nana had gone away, and that was it. A pet died? It ran away or was “given away”. No, she had never been confronted with death in her entire life, so to see Valor to be_ consumed _by those things left her feeling a cold, despair that flooded her from the inside out. Scalding tears burst into her eyes as she felt a sob get choked into her throat. “No…no, please…”_

_She hadn’t known Valor for more than a few hours, and yet the moment the dark warriors consumed the warrior spirit, it had left Echo feeling like she had lost something vital like an arm or a leg. Her entire sense of self had been warped with the spirit’s death in ways that she could not fathom. “No! No!”_

_“I am sorry, falon,” Wisdom said, softly. “He is gone, but their sacrifice will not be in vain. We must hurry. Come.”_

_When the spirit started to tug her forward, Echo dug the heels of her feet into the ground. “Wait,” she said, her voice . She blew out a harsh breath, her cheeks puffing out with the force of it before she turned to look at Curiosity who stood off to the side. “Curiosity…”_

_Said spirit perked up._

_Echo gulped down the hard lump in her throat, and she looked pleadingly at the yellow spirit. “Get out of here. Run,” Echo ordered, her voice trembling. “Don’t let them have a chance to hurt you, too.”_

_“But…” Curiosity protested. It wanted to see what was inside of the room, too, but it also did not want to end up like Valor had. It shifted nervously, when Wisdom soothed the younger spirit._

_“Go, Curiosity,” Wisdom said, with a motherly tone. “I will find you, and let you know what occurred.”_

_Curiosity stood there for a long moment of indecision, before it relented. “Okay. I will see you later,” the spirit said, sadly waved at Echo. “Bye, Echo.”_

_As Curiosity disappeared as if by magic, Echo whispered, “Goodbye, Curiosity.”_

_Wisdom laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let us go,” the spirit whispered._

_Echo wiped her eyes stubbornly refusing to allow herself to break down and cry. She stumbled over her feet, and down the hallway. At the end of the hallway was a room that was beyond anything that she had ever seen. Two torches were mounted upon each wall, and the flame a light bluish green. The ceiling seemed to glitter with all the light of the night sky, and the floors were made from this beautiful grey marble that looked like billowing thunderheads. At the far north side of the room, upon the wall was a golden mirror unlike anything she had ever seen. It was not something meant to reflect an image, and Echo could not construe it’s purpose, but it stood nearly the height of the ceiling. Behind the mirror upon the wall, a white tree glisten and its branches stood like a silent guardian._

_And yet all this wonder was not left Echo stunned. It was what sat at the base of the golden mirror that made her entire world come crashing to a halt. It was a daybed with the framing made from the most beautiful jade, and the red cushions made from a soft material that would have left silk envious. Upon the bed…was a woman, her hands folded upon her chest that softly rose and fell with each breath. A large blanket was draped over her to keep her warm, and was embroidered with golden threads that made the same pattern that was upon the door._

_The clincher? The sleeping woman looked identical to Echo in everyway, save for the elongated tip to her ears that made her look like an extra from Lord of the Rings. “Why…” Echo’s voice cracked. Her eyes were filled with tears of devastation and fear as she stared at the elf woman that had her face. Her lips trembled, and she took a step back. “W-why does she l-look like me?”_

_Wisdom looked at her with pity as much pity as a spirit could have. “You know why,” was all that Wisdom said, and it sent Echo rocking back on her feet as if punched in the gut._

_Echo shook her head wordlessly. She placed her hand to her forehead, overcome with a dizziness and black dots danced in front of her eyes. “I-I’m Echo…” She whispered. “I’m Echo Harper. I was born in St. Mary’s County Hospital to Maggie and…Be…Beau…” The name vanished from her mind, and panic seized her heart in a vice grip._

_“It is alright to be afraid,” Wisdom assured her, with a sad smile. “It happens when a dreamer has been asleep for too long, but the memories return as the dream fades.”_

_“No…” She croaked out. “No…I’m real. I’m real…please…please…” Echo started to hyperventilate, and . The ceiling and walls turned as dark as obsidian as the wind exploded with a voice of a violent and uncontrolled scream. The torches spewed up fire so bright and so high that it touched the ceiling, and the amount of smoke that filled the air was suffocating. Echo choked, throwing her arm over her face as the ground shook beneath her feet like an earthquake. As Echo opened her mouth to shout, she felt something try to wrap around her. To smother the very life from her as if coiled around her lungs and heart and_ squeeze. _The bow clattered to the ground discarded._

_“You must wake,” Wisdom’s voice just barely audible over the wind. “You must wake up now!”_

_Echo opened her mouth, but could make no reply. Icy cold numbed her skin, and the wind sounded like monsters that only lived in nightmare’s or under frightful children’s beds. Echo lifted her head, and saw two blood red eyes staring down at her with malicious intent and would star in many nightmares to come._

_The last thing she saw was Wisdom step between her and whatever this horrible creature was and then…_ Echo woke up on a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a drawing I did of Echo Harper if you are curious as to what she looked like:  
> [](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/echo_zpsziqleqbc.jpg.html)
> 
> 1.) The Fade is mostly based on perception. In my cannon, the Fade was once a beautiful magical paradise filled with spirits where dreamers could go, and where Fen’Harel was more at home than anywhere else. Of course, with the Veil, the connection to the Fade was warped and the Fade was fractured which is why it appears in scattered islands floating about and never completely whole. This broken place must have seemed terrifying to the mages and spirits, which altered the perception of it only further turning it from the utopia into a dark place. With the Chantry and the fear of magic, this continued for centuries so the true beauty of the Fade is mostly unrecognizable and only a person who knows what they are looking for could brush away the layers of fear and misconception and see what the Fade truly is. Echo has no concept of the Fade, and even less to push away the nightmarish land she sees to see what it used to be. Wisdom, Curiosity, and Valor’s personalities are defined by how Echo perceives those traits. She believed Wisdom is patient, kind, almost motherly. Curiosity is bright, and child-like. Valor is strong, booming with confidence, and always there to stand at someone’s aid. In my head cannon, these are spirits Echo knew before entering the elven sleep and were her friends. It is why their loss hurts her, even though her head doesn’t remember--her heart does.  
> 2.) Echo does not remember this period of time. She doesn’t remember this encounter in the Fade, nor does she remember Valor, Wisdom or Curiosity. At least, she doesn’t remember now. That may change.  
> 3.) Ar lasa mala revas, da‘len. You are free now, child.


	5. Unto this Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so much. You guys have really made my time AO3 so wonderful, and knowing that everyone loves this story so much makes me enjoy writing it. I apologize for the delay in updating. I promise updates will be swifter. Hopefully. :D  
> Also I am working on WordPad right now because my Microsoft Work stopped working all the sudden, and I apparently have to rebuy it because I had to delete it off the computer. It was just not happening. So if you see any mispelling or any typos please feel free to tell me. I looked over it, and tried to catch them all, but sometimes they slipped past me. I'm won't get all huffy or offended. I'm human. I make mistakes, that are usually caught my Works, but sadly WordPad is not as good.  
> I want to thank Guardian_of_Chrona, AnieActuality, Kbrock1, NikaraNox, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, modifer, Hexilian, Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel, seraphem31, moiha, wolfzero12, Asha_revas, Opiesterling, Essindra and chain0425 for bookmarking my story. :D  
> I want to thank Nadine and JohskatheWise for the comments. :D  
> I want to thank Sehlib, UsakoAuditore, AnieActuality, DarkAngelDisuke, thetinymouse, akharding91, bakaprincess85, poetikat, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, elemenop22, Hexilian, catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Boraluven, chain0425, and JohskatheWise as well as 36 guests who left me the lovely kudos!
> 
> Inspired by the song:  
> "I Just Wanna Run" by The Downtown Fiction  
> "Thousand Eyes" by Monsters and Men

CHAPTER FIVE  
"Unto this Storm"

Knots of dread twisted in her soul as she watched as Cassandra, Edwin, Varric, and Solas became indecipherable specs against the walls of snow that came falling down from the grey clouds that billowed wildly around the green eye of the storm that was the Breach. Echo's hands felt clammy as she stood there, and she turned when she saw a group of three approach her out of the corner of her eye. Two were clearly templars, while the other wore scout armor. Having little doubt as to who they were, Echo inclined her head. "I take it that you are Lisette, and Marco, and...well, the spymaster failed to tell me your name I'm afraid," Echo said, with a disarming smile. 

The scout snorted, lightly. "Names Jote," the male elf replied, his tone was curt and short. He was obviously not here for the small talk. He was Dalish by the mark of Mythal painted upon his skin, the limbs and stock were brown were the leaves had been made green. His eyes were sharp, and the jagged scars upon his face showed the tell tale signs of an unforgiving life. 

"Jote," she repeated, politely. Her mama did raise her with some manners, after all. Echo doubted that was the scout's real name, but wasn't about to make an issue of it. There were more important things to do right now. "Shall we?" She said, with a thin smile. 

"Yes," Lisette said, her tone kind though weary. Her dark hair pulled out of her face into a ponytail, with rebellious strands sticking up all over the place. Her skin was pale as if it hadn't seen the sun in ages, Echo noted. She must have been stationed inside a circle to keep an eye on the mages, and had only seen the outside of said circle only recently. Sometimes, the towers were as much a prison for the templars as it was for it's mages. If her accent hadn't given away that she was Orleasian, her armor most certainly would. The templar armor from Orlais was a bit more extravagant than the Fereldan and Free Marches armor. The front of it held a lion on top of the sword of mercy, clearly showing the country's pride superseded the Chantry. Echo wondered if that wasn't a bit heretical, but wasn't about to pester the templar about it. "I do not think it best to keep the scouts on the path waiting." 

"If they do indeed wait," Marco spoke, his accent was a Free-Marcher's accent. It momentarily surprised Echo, and she looked at him with wide eyes. He was handsome man with almond shaped eyes, and they were a mesmerizing honey color. His skin was the color of savory dark chocolate and he had a cocky smirk upon his supple lips. He was tall and broad in build so it was no wonder how he managed to carry the large diamond maul upon his back with such ease. "They could be dead for all we know, but I suppose that's why we are needed in the first place, no?" 

"Indeed," Lisette said, dryly. The templar shared a look, a quick look that bespoke of many things. 

Echo arched a brow at the pair, but merely allowed it to go. It wasn't any of her business, and she turned towards the path. "Alright. Let's do this," she whispered more to herself than to them. It was not long before the hushed and worried voice were lost underneath the window as they ventured further and further away from the gates. Her heart settled like a stone upon her chest weighted down by anxiety and fear. So much fear, because if Edwin were to fail then the only hope fell to her and her mark. If hers could indeed do as his did, and seal the rifts. 

Echo liked to joke before she was allergic to responsibility, but the truth was that she didn't want to responsible for anyone else. This way if she failed then she is the _only one_ who got hurt. Not anyone else. If this task fell to her...it was an entire world's weight, and Echo could barely figure out what was best to do for herself on her best days. Let alone a whole world. 

"What alienage did you grow up in, if you don't mind my asking?" Marco inquired, drawing her out of her thoughts. He looked at her curiously with a tilt of his head. "You carry yourself like no city elf that I have ever seen." 

_How to answer that without being suspicious?_ Echo thought, with a slight frown. She shook her boot ever so slightly to try and melt the snow that fell down inside of it as quickly as possible before she continued up the hill. "I did not grow up in an alienage, at all," she said, honestly. 

"Dalish then?" Jote asked, keenly. His eyes flickered to her bare face betraying his silent thoughts. 

"No. I was raised by humans," Echo answered, honestly. It would give them a moment's pause, and it was not untrue. She was raised by two amazing human beings, even if that had been on Earth and not Thedas. It was better to stick as close to the truth as she could, that way there was a lesser chance of her getting got in a lie. 

"You were taken in by humans?" Jote scoffed, as if the very idea was insane. 

"Yes," Echo replied, simply. "I know there aren't many humans who would do such a thing, but my parents were the exception. They cared and loved me as if they were my real parents, and never once made me feel like I didn't belong." 

"They sound like good people," Lisette said, quietly. 

"They were," Echo replied, her voice wavered for a moment. She didn't know what happened to her parents. How did they handle her disapperance? Did they search for her? Did they spend years in mourning? Did they ever move on, or were they unable to? It was questions that hit her hard every so often, and now was no except. "We should move faster. The snow fall may have stopped, but that doesn't mean it will forever." 

"Agreed," Lisette nodded. 

Now that visibility was no longer an issue, they quickly climbed the hill and found themselves at the base of the old mines. Echo stared up at the many ladders that were above them, and felt her legs wobble unsteady underneath at the thought of climbing up them all. "Ladders," Echo said, flatly. She eyed them as if they were something the Void had just spat out, and her jaw clenched. "No one mentioned there were ladders. No one mentioned climbing." 

"What seems to be the problem?" Lisette questioned, confused. 

"Nothing. Nothing," Echo commented, her tone light. "Just that...heights and I do not have a loving relationship. In fact, we have no relationship. We are estranged, and I had rather hoped to keep it that way." She didn't need to look behind her to see the three strange looks she received at that, and drew in a deep breath. "No going back now, I suppose?" 

She placed her hands on the ladder. It was covered in a thin coat of ice, and she flinched slightly. Swallowing, she pulled herself up on the first step of the ladder and then the next. _Slow and steady like the turtle that beat the hare,_ she told herself, feeling more secure with each moment that passed and she didn't plummet to her death. 

"You are really scared of heights, aren't you?" Marco said, loudly. 

Echo jumped, only just managing to hold to the ladder. Hugging the ladder even though she couldn't be more than feet from the ground, she glared down at the templar with her lip curled back in a snarl. "Don't do that!" She ordered, her voice slightly high pitched. "And no, I'm not afraid!" 

Marco arched a brow, and gestured to how she clung to the ladder as it were a lifeline. 

"I..." Echo uncurled herself from around the ladder, and placed her feet steady on the step. "Am reasonably cautious when it comes to heights as to avoid," she spoke, as she pulled herself up further along the ladder, "becoming a bloody flat mess upon the ground below. There is nothing wrong with that." 

They _laughed_ at her. All of them. She hears Marco's laugh, deep and rumble like. Underneath his laugh, she can just barely hear Lisette's laugh, and she knows she heard even Jote give a chuckle. Echo scowled deeply, and thought viciously, _You're laughing right now, but if I fall I'm taking all of you with me._ Her arms ached by the time she reached the top of the third and final ladder. She gave an over exaggerated breath of relief, and placing her hands on her knees as she bent over to catch her breath. 

The altitude burned in each breath, and seared her lungs with it's icy fingers. Her teeth weren't even chattering anymore because she had become numb to the cold, and she was pretty sure she was experiencing the beginnings of hypothermia. _Fucking templars,_ she mentally cursed, with actually meaning. Well, she sort of meant it. Normally, she could use her mana to keep herself from getting cold. Like an internal fire, without getting burnt and spent little mana. 

She hadn't dared given current circumstances. Ever since the templars entered Haven and not to mention Seeker Pentaghast, she had suffered through the cold. Standing closer to torches or campfires, she had endured. Up here there was no such comforts and if she produced the smallest amount of magic, the Templars could likely turn on her. 

There was a chance they might not. Lisette and Marco seemed like decent enough people, their templar status notwithstanding. But Echo wasn't willing to bet her life upon it. She offered Lisette a hand as the templar reached the top, followed by Jote and lastly Marco. 

"I get why you hate ladder," Marco said, the amusement in his tone denoted that statement as the blatant lie it was. 

Echo opened her mouth when her pointed ear caught a faint noise. Her head tilted towards the mine entrance as a warning sizzled up her spine, and Echo pulled her bow from where it was upon her back. Her eyes narrowed, and she held up her hand to indicate the need for silence. Her eyes flickered to Jote who was closest to her, and arched a brow. _Did you hear that?_ The silent question she posed to the scout. 

Something inside the mines. 

Jote's face grew grim, and he nodded. He made a hand gesture that made Lisette take out her sword and shield, and Marco pulled his maul off his back. 

Jote led, going head first into the mines with his daggers in hand and the careful grace that rogue had to perfect. Echo was only a couple of feet behind him, and an arrow notched to guard as Lisette and Marco ducked past her to be at the front of whatever battle was ahead. 

"Demons!" Jote's shout echoed through the darkness, and the sound of blades hitting something followed. 

Echo caught the flash of green out of the corner of her eye, and saw a floating along to left. It hide behind the pillars and started to throw balls of plasma towards Marco and Lisette helping Jote fight what appeared to be two Shades. Echo twisted her body, and let the arrow fly. The green demon flew back, after being struck by the arrow and made a loud hissing noise when it lifted what appeared to be a head and look straight at Echo. 

Echo dodged the ball of energy, using the pillars as the demon had to keep cover. It was like a dance between the demon and her as she pulled another arrow free from the quiver and notched it back. Her breath fell from her lips noisily, and as she came around the third pillar and saw green, she fired her arrow. It's aim was true, hitting the glowing skeleton right in the skull. It dissolved in a matter of seconds, and the arrows dropped to the ground. 

Not that Echo was focused on that. She was more focused on the burning sensation on the side of her face, and she reached up with a mute scream on her lips to wipe away the plasma off her face. It burned like acid, and she heard a curse come from behind her. 

"Tilt your head back," Marco ordered, using one of the pillars to prop up his maul in order to pull his flask from his belt. 

Echo had little choice, and tilted her head as Jote stepped behind her to steady her while Lisette stood guard. She saw Marco use his teeth to pry open the flask, and he gave her a split second glance of sympathy. "Close your eyes," he ordered, and as much as she didn't want to, Echo did. "This is going to burn." 

He gave the warning only a split second before the liquid poured upon her face, and it washed away the gump left by the demon, only to leave a scorching burn in it's wake. "Fuck," Echo cursed, and she didn't care who heard it. She started to reach up with her hand, but Marco caught it then used the flask to clean her burnt fingertips, too. "You..." 

"Bastard? Ass? Shem?" His lips twitched at the last one. "Son of Druffalo's dick?" 

"All of that and more," Echo said, her voice rough. "What the hell was in that?" 

"Whiskey," Marco replied, then made a face when Lisette shot him a look of disapproval. "Like you've never partook in a drink before, oh, devout and noble Templar Lisette." 

"I have not," Lisettle said, tone clipped. 

"I was not aware Templars weren't allowed to drink," Echo breathed out, her teeth gnashed together as she lifted herself off of the floor. Jote offered her a potion, but she shook her head. They had been given three potions becuase it was what little could be spared, and Echo's wounds were nothing to waste one on. "It's only a flesh wound. Nothing to bother a potion with." 

"Only the fun Templars drink," Marco said, with a quick, cheeky grin towards Lisette. "The sticks on the mud, however..." 

Lisette cut him off with an eye roll. "Are you quite done? I do believe that there are scouts that we need to check in on. If the demons have made it to the mines, then that means that had to go through the scouts. That does not leave much hope for their survival," she concluded, grim-faced. 

That dampened Marco's mischief quickly. His face immediately turned serious, and he nodded. "You're right. If there is any survivors then they need our aid immediately," Marco stated, through his flask to the ground. It was useless without the cork that was lost somewhere upon the ground, and in this dark would be near impossible to find. He took up his maul, and glanced over at Echo. "You are certain you need no potion?" 

"Yes," Echo said, with a nod. There had been many close calls during her time in Kirkwall where a hasty use of a potion had nearly cost someone their life later on in the fight. 

"Then let's go," Jote said, taking lead once more. 

Each footstep seemed to echo along the frozen corridors as loud as a smith's hammer hit metal, and the mines were long and winding. Sheets of ice so thick covered nearly every surface from the floor to the walls to the ceilings. Echo stood in awe of it all, for it look like some kind of dark winter wonderland. There were stalagmites, and stalactites made from pure ice that were bigger than she was tall. Frozen marvels were all around them, glittering like crystals from the light of a torch that Lisette found and lit. The light however, offered little insight to what may be lurking in the shadows, and as they passed a room, dark claws reached out for her barely missing her by an inch. "Shade!" She called out, and backtracked two steps as the Shade slinked out of the room. 

"More ahead!" Jote called out, from where he stood at the base of stairs where two more Shades had been loitering around the exit. 

The Shades descended upon the group. Echo ducked underneath the Shade that was way too interested in her for her liking, and she fired an arrow at it after Marco knocked it back with his maul. "Watch your back," Marco sassed, before he charged towards the Shade. 

"And here I thought I was watching yours," Echo smarted off, before she shot an arrow at the Shade that Jote just barely managed to dodge. Shades moved is such a strange motion. It was almost like they were swimming through the air almost, in a breast stroke. Without legs they had to glide their bulk across the ground. 

Echo used the brunt force of her bow to punch the face of a Shade when it got too close, then used the arrow in her left hand to stab it in the neck. It wasn't the traditionally way to use a bow and arrow, but it got the job done. The Shade clawed at the arrow buried in it's neck, and that gave Lisette enough time to finish it off. 

"Well," Marco wiped the demon blood off his face with the back of his gauntlet, "that was bracing. Onto the next?" He asked, with a half smirk on his face. 

Lisette just shook her head, with a smile. 

"Perhaps something less bracing?" Jote commented, after taking a potion. A Shade had gotten it's claw good into his side, and blood now coated the outside of his arm all the way down his right leg. The potions effects took a moment, but luckily it was strong enough to knit the skin back together. With a haggard breath, Jote smashed the bottle against the ground. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Marco complained. 

"If this your idea of fun, then I worry for the state of your mental health," Echo commented, dryly. She made her way up the stairs, with the other three trailing after. The exit was just in sight, and Echo held her hand up above her eyes to help keep the brightness from the outside from hurting too badly. 

"Oh, Maker," Marco hissed, and he backpedaled into Jote once he stepped outside. "That's bright. You'd think with no sun out it would be less so." 

"It's all the snow," Lisette commented, blinking her eyes. 

"Oh, no," Jote said, in despair then he took off down the hill. 

Echo blinked her eyes hard, and followed him at a much more subdued pace. It wasn't until she was halfway down the hill did the brightness ease upon her eyes enough for her to see the bodies. _Or what was left of them,_ Echo thought, her stomach turned harshly. Blood had melted down into the snow, and there was a torso to the left of her and legs to the right. Two more bodies, torn apart were just three feet ahead and that's where Jote knelted. 

"No...no...Ellana! No!" Jote's voice broke as his hand grasped at the body closest to him. It was of a female elf, her vallaslin was that of Slyaise, and her blue eyes vacantly stared up at the sky above. "Ma'lath, I didn't want to believe it...I knew when I felt our bond crack..." He sobbed, pulling her head and cradling it into his lap. He leaned down and pressed gentle kiss to the dead elf's blood stained brow. He muttered a broken prayer in elvish, praying for the Creators to please bring her back and that he would repay them with anything. 

No elvhen Creator answered. No Maker did, either. Only a rumble from the sky above, and Echo looked down at the ground, trying to give the elf privacy in his moment of grief. Lisette's eyes were suspiciously gleaming, and Marco's jaw clenched. 

Echo watched the heartbreaking scene with sorrowful eyes. She knew him not well enough to offer him word to comfort his grief, but she could not stand there and do nothing. This was someone he knew. This was someone he had loved. "Jote," Echo whispered out. This was someone he knew. This was someone he had loved. 

"My sweet Ellana," Jote choked out, pressing messy kisses to her face. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he bent forward as if to shield the dead elf from the world. As if that would be enough to protect her, and bring it back. "She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to come...but she followed me against our Keepers orders. She followed me into exile, and for what? I've lead her to her death..." 

"You didn't do this, Jote," Marco said, quietly. "The demons did. The person behind the conclave did. Not you." 

"But I could have told her no," Jote hiccuped, waterly. "I could have made her stay the clan, but I didn't. I didn't...I dragged both her and her brother into this...and for what? For what?" He kept mumbling it under his breath over and over until he just mouthed it silently. The look in his eyes grow distant, and his hands tremble where they hold his beloved. 

"Jote," Echo said his name again. She could see it. The signs of shock settling in, and knew that if they did not snap him out of it soon it would be bad. Really, really bad. 

Jote's entire body shuddered, from his head down to his toe and pulled the necklace from his neck in one swift motion. The leather strap snapped with a pop, and he slowly pressed it into Ellana's hand. One last sob fell from his lips as he laid her gently out on the snow, and brushed Ellana's silvery hair from her face to place one last kiss on her brow then her lips. Settling her arms over her chest, Jote took one last long moment to memorize her features before he rose to his feet. His entire face expressionless, even though tears flooded his eyes. "This...this cannot be all of them. W-we must find the others," he spoke, and his voice was flat. It sounded like the entire life had pulled wretched out of him in one fall swoop. 

"Jote," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She did not know him, but she was not a stranger to grief. She knew how devastating loss could be, and it was obvious that Jote had been clinging to hope until this very moment. "If you need a moment..." 

"No." Jote just gave a small shake of his head. "Let us go. There is nothing left here for me," he said, tonelessly. He stared sightless out in front of him, and made his way down the hill without a second glance. 

Echo stared at the elf's back, worriedly. "We better follow before he gets himself into trouble," she said, quietly. Trudging down a snow covered hill was different than trudging up one. The snow cleverly hid any dips or drops that would trip them up and cause them to fall down the hill faster than someone could shout, 'Andraste'. 

They rounded the thicket of trees only seconds after Jote, and Echo slid to a stop in shock at the swirling green mass that crackled in the air just twenty feet above where the presumed missing scouts stood battling demons with Jote aiding them. 

"A rift!" Lisette shouted. "The scouts need help." 

Echo heart lurched into her throat, as she stared at the rift with wide eyes. It was bright, almost overwhelming so, and a strange pressure built right the bridge of her nose. Was the brightness of the rift about to trigger a seizure? It was a possiblity that she hadn't thought of until right this moment, but she couldn't exactly stay away from it. Something trembled beneath her feet, and she looked down to see a greenish glow. "Move! Move!" She cried out, and threw her body against Lisette. 

She shoved the templar out of the way just in time for not even a second after a terror demon sprang up from a ground. It's limbs long and lanky, and something about it vaguely reminded Echo of a pray mantis. A deadly pray mantis that lunged for them, but Marco brought his blade down right across it's arms. The demon's severed arms fell to the ground, and the terror shrieked. 

"Up!" Lisette shoved Echo's shoulder and jolted the female elf back into the present. 

"Right! Help," Echo nodded, and rose to her feet. She pulled her bow from her back, and notched an arrow as Marco shoved the terror back viciously. She released it and it sliced through the air to go through the demon's eye socket. Marco took the advantage offered, and plunged his sword through the middle of the demon. He twisted it with a snarl on his face, and within seconds, the demon withered out of existence. 

Echo twisted, and fired another arrow at a spectral demon. A scout delivered the final blow by burying their daggers into its back. Echo ran down the hill at full speed, and pulled out another arrow as a Shade approached Jote's back. She let the arrow hastily fly and it struck the demon in the abdomen. The Shade hissed, it arched like an angry cat and Jote spun around, slashing it across the face. With help from another scout, another couple of attacks easily brought it down. 

Lisette charged with a bellow, and knocked the Shade to the ground with her shield before she finished it off by plunging her blade deep into it's breast. 

A silence fell over the valley, and the only sound Echo could hear were each desperate breath she choked down. Her eyes were pinned to the rift that crackled, and swirled after the last demon fell. It was silent, almost ominously so, and despite the moment of respite, Echo felt worried. Indecision filled her the longer she stared at the glowing mass. _Should I close it now?_ Echo wondered, gnawing on her lower lip. Her right hand clenched into a tight fist where the mark buzzed underneath her glove. 

A foreboding fear quivered through her heart, and "The scouts..." Echo said, breathlessly. "How bad is it?" 

"Nothing a potion won't fix," Marco commented, raking an eye over them. 

"Then fix it," Echo ordered, briskly. She slung her bow across her back, and tunneled her fingers through her hair. There was a tightness coiled in her chest like a angry cobra, and she could here a rattling in her ears. A warning right before the bite. "Give them how many potions to heal them so we can leave this damnable place." 

"Of course," Lisette nodded, and retrieved what little potions they had to give to the scouts. 

"Maker, we thought we were goners," a scout said, voice shaking. 

"The rift appeared out of nowhere. We were overrun. We didn't stand a chance," another scout stuttered. 

And then came the bite that Echo had feared. 

As soon as the scouts had started to look better, the rift suddenly exploded. Four tendrils of light shot out and slammed into the ground. "That's not good," Echo said, not caring that she was stating the obvious. She pulled her bow from her back, and her eyes darted from one spot on the ground to the other. The hum in the air grew tenfold, and the spot grew brighter and brighter. "Get back! Back!" 

"Another wave?" Marco looked stunned as Echo felt. 

The other rifts had only one wave of demons, and then were sealed. Echo had never stopped to think that other rifts may be different, and in the pit of her stomach she knew that this oversight was going to cost them greatly. The ground exploded and two terrors shot up from the group. And a demon of Despair flew upward, it's dark tattered robes swirled around it and a faint icy mist came off of it. 

Demons distorted the world around them. Like their very essence fragmented the reality around them, and tainted everything surround them. To Echo it felt like needles that gouged into her skin, and the dark emotions poured into her veins like bad medicine. It clawed and grasped at her soul, tempting and trying to corrupt her will. Gnashing her teeth together, she pulled back and arrow shooting it at the despair demon. 

"Scouts focus on the despair demon," Echo ordered, her voice harsh with panic and fear. "Lisette, Marco, take the terrors! Go! Go!" 

They listened, for whatever reason. She didn't have time to question it, or even think to question it. The battle erupted into chaos, and all that mattered was survival. The despair demon blasted a icy beam freezing one scout in place, and the terror demon shattered the man's legs right from underneath him. His screams echoed all across the valley long after the terror demon snapped his neck. 

The demons worked in sync like a rabid pack of wolves. The terrors defended the despair demon, and the despair demon tried to ice anyone that got close to the terrors. But with arrows from Echo and sneak attacks from Jote and another rogue, the despair demon finally fell. The air instantly warmed, and the ice that coated the outside of Echo's arm melted almost instantly. 

But to celebrate now would be premature. The two terrors seemed agitated by the fall of their fellow demon, and they attacked with more vigor. One knocked Marco clean off his feet, and lunged at Jote. Jote tried to bury his dagger into the terror's flesh, but the terror grasped his arm then it ripped it clean off. 

Muscle and sinew hung off of his shoulder, and Jote choked in shock. He stood there staring at the terror demon with large wide eyes, and then suddenly his expression turned despairingly resigned. 

"Jote!" Echo screamed, horrified. 

Jote didn't even try to move. He saw death, whether it was by bleeding out or by the demon's claw. Either way, he welcomed it because it would mean he would be with Ellana again. To him that all that mattered, and with one slice from terror's claws, he was dead. The blood painted the snow, only seconds before Jote's body hit the ground with a thud. 

Blood roared past Echo's ears, and she stood there frozen. It was a blistering kind of feeling. One that moved across her skin like pins and needles, incessantly and white hot. Her breath is lodged in her throat right behind a scream she bit back. It was only when the terror demon ripped open a portal in the ground, and she felt a tingle spread up from her feet. Her eyes darted down to see the eerie green glow, and she start to backpedal. 

It was too late, and everything happened too fast for anyone to stop. 

With a flash of a green, the next thing Echo knew was she laying flat on her back in the snow and staring up at the demon. Fear and panic lashed through her and she saw the claws coming down at her face. She dodged as best as she could, but it wasn't far enough. Tender flesh was torn open across her cheek by a razor sharp claw while the other hand viciously wrapped around her neck, and pinned her to the ground. 

Echo gasped, and choked on the blood filling her mouth. She flailed, trying to kick out, and her hands grasped for her daggers desperately. She could hear nothing beyond the sound of her own struggles, and she could hear Varric's voice in the back of her mind telling him that he told her so. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the vicious need to stay alive beat through her veins. 

The band tightly around her magic snapped, and the mark on her right palm flared angrily. Lightning rippled off of her in waves, and a roar that sounded more animal than elf came out of her mouth as the terror was thrown back off of her. Somehow in the next moment, she was on her feet and she felt flames lick across her fingertip. Rage. Burning rage, but she would not allow it to consume her. Instead, she gave those feelings purpose and turned them onto the terror. 

Her upper lip curled backwards in a wolfish snarl, and she felt a darker part of her revel in the way the inferno scorched the earth around the demon before it consumed it. It shrieked and screamed, but it could not do anything as it was turned to a pile of burning ember. Her eyes then turned to the rift, and she narrowed her eyes upon it. 

Anger was the only reason she wasn't out cold on the ground. Anger that was quietly slipping through her fingers, and she knew she did not have much longer. She pulled her glove of her hand enough to make her skin sting, and she lifted her arm upward. She didn't need to see Marco of Lisette's face to know there was panic and fear there. She could taste in on her tongue, but she had little choice. 

The rift had to be closed. 

So she grasped onto the anger and the rage and the fear. Every emotion that coursed through, and concentrated it all into the palm of her hand then _shoved_ it towards the rift. The bolt of fade and magic shot forth, and sent Echo skidding backwards a foot in the snow. The wind stung the side of her face, but she couldn't allow herself to feel. All of her, all that was left of her had to go to the rift. 

_Close,_ Echo ordered with her mind. 

The rift snapped, defiantly like a willful child. 

_Close!_ Echo screamed inside her head with all her might. 

And the rift bent, and curled into itself smoothing the rough edges of the Fade that had splintered into reality, and then sewed them shut. With a thunderous boom, the rift was gone and Echo collapsed in a heap upon the ground. She gasped, her head falling deep into the snow and white coated her entire vision. 

Each hot breath split across the snow directly in front of her face, and created a small indention before her lips. Red stained the white snow beneath her heart, and she felt two voices. They were close, but sounded soft and faint against the buzzing noise right against her eardrum. 

"Apostate..." one whispered. 

"...Order dictates..." another one—a female one—said, her tone sharp. Mistrustful. 

"...no Circle, all mages..." the first one countered. 

Echo gave trying to make sense of the argument. Too much in pain to put thought or effort in that moment. She wanted nothing more to shut her eyes, and allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness. 

The Breach above pulsed, and her mark lashed out. Echo cried out, shaking violently as the agony rolled over her with all the force of a typhoon, hurricane and tornado all rolled into one. When the pain pulled back, Echo slumped to the ground panting. Her eyes were wide open, and her mind alert as adrenaline burst through her heart like a beating drum. 

_The Breach..._ Echo thought, her brows furrowed. _They should have been there by now. They should have attempted to seal it by now. Something went wrong. I have to...I have to..._ She weakly fought to roll over so she could push herself off the ground, but her body did not respond to the command at all. Frustration colored her cheeks brighter than the chilly winds, and she growled out. 

That's when two hands gently grasped her shoulders and rolled her onto her back. Echo blinked her eyes rapidly until a blurry image of Marco appeared above her. Concern marred his expression as well as wariness, and he seemed to be torn about something. 

Echo let out a quaking breath. If anyone could understand what closing the Breach meant, surely it would be a templar. She reached out, her trembling fingers clasped the front of his armor and pulled him towards her. "The...Breach..." Red petals of blood stained her lips, and she fought to stay coherent. "I have...to seal..." Echo said, as she breathed in through her nose after she swallowed down the blood. 

"If we don't get you help, mage," Lisette said, harshly as she appeared right over Marco's shoulder, "then you will die. The last of our potions went to the scouts if you recall." 

Echo gurgled, and grasped desperately at Marco's arm. "Breach...kill...all. I'm one...one against many...not enough. The many...more important..." She struggled with each word, her tongue felt swollen and awkward inside of her mouth. "Get me...to Breach." 

A horrible understanding flooded across Marco's eyes, and his lips pursed together to hold back the protests that bubbled up inside of his throat. Slowly, he nodded his head. "Alright. We'll get you to that Breach," he promised, and leaned down to pull her left arm over his shoulders. He then slowly wrapped his other arm around her waist, and helped her to her feet. 

Lisette shook her head. "She will not make it." 

"She has to," Marco told her, with determined expression. "The prisoner should have already made it to the Breach. It's still not sealed, adn that means something went wrong. Echo has the same mark, and I don't know how she got it, but it sealed the rift. She seems to think it will seal the Breach." 

Lisette's hands clenched at her sides. 

"Lisette, we have to try," Marco said, softly. "If we don't..." 

The sentence hung in the air heavy upon all of them, and finally, Lisette relented. "Fine," she said, her accent thick with trepidation. She stared at Echo's paling face, and frowned. "We must hurry. She will not last long." 

The three scouts that survived murmured amongst themselves before one of them stepped forward. "We will escort you to the Temple," he offered, with his arm crossed across his chest and the hand curled into a fist as he bowed. "She saved our lives. The least we can do is to help her see this through until the end." 

Echo took a deep breath, and then another before she mustered up the energy to nodded her head in acceptance. 

"Good. Let's go," Marco ordered, now that the matter was settled. 

The wind screamed at them as they climbed the hillside, and would not let up for anything in the world. Snow pelted them as the storm started anew, and Echo shivered and shook. She had to stay awake. She couldn't let her eyes fall closed, or she would not make it. "G...gaily b-bedight," she croaked out, blood and drool dribbled out down her lips. It was disgusting, but Marco still held her close and helped her towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "A gall...ant knight, in sun'ine and s'adow, 'ad journey long, singing...song, in search of E...rado." 

Marco stiffened, his brows furrowed. 

"She is trying to stay awake," Lisette explained, quietly. She had seen it before by Templars who were too afraid to close their eyes, and fall into nightmares after a bad harrowing. 

"And, as 'is strengt'," Echo hissed, knowing she messed up the poem. She had missed a few lines, but she couldn't remember them so she pressed onto what she could remember. "F-failed him at lengt', 'e met a pilgrim sha'ow..." Echo closed her eyes in despair. "S-shit...I forgot..." 

"Perhaps you shouldn't talk," Marco frowned, heavily. "You have a hole in your face, if you have forgotten." 

"N-nope. H-haven't for-rgot." She hadn't forgot. It hurt worse than anything she had ever felt into her life, and she could feel the cold air enter through the hole in her cheek. She felt it wrap around her teeth and tongue with painful precision. It was no wonder that Marco had turned green at the sight of her because she imagined she was the picture of gruesome and horror. "It hurts..." she whimpered, the muscles in her cheek stretched and pulled with each word. Blood rushed down like a fountain, and the black spots that danced in front of her eyes only grew greater in sizes. 

Her head bobbed, and she felt dizzy. Her thoughts were slow and lethargic like she had her head underwater while someone was trying to talk to her. Her chest rose and fell sharply, her body trembled like a brittle leaf against a gale. Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell of seared flesh reached it, and she felt her ears twitch ever so slightly as the distant sound of battle could be heard. 

The Temple was a gruesome sight as they reached it. It looked like a warhead had been dropped on it, and blown it apart. Once great walls reduced to rubble and scattered across the ground like a child's toys, and in every direction were the bodies of the unfortunate souls caught in the explosion. Burnt and twisted in agony and fear with their jaws open wide in silent screams. Though it was a mercy that their deaths had been swiftly dealt, it was equally horrifying to realize that these people had been so unprepared for what happened. Their terror and pain still fresh in the air, and it sunk into her skin with all the kindness of a knife against flesh. Their lives had been cut horrifyingly short, and for what? _For what?_ Jote's voice came from the back of her mind, and her heart felt heavy. 

_For what?_ The Breach pulsed, and her mark burned. Her energy spent, she could barely more than give a pitiful moan and twitch at the pain. 

Despair. Utter despair and destruction. That's what whoever did this wanted. They wanted the world to see this, and be afraid of what would follow. 

That was the answer that came to her mind as they reached the group of soldiers and scouts. The hope had dwindled right before their eyes as the prisoner—the only hope they knew of to seal the Breach—was dead lying on the ground. Only a fool could miss how his body was face down on the ground, and clearly away from the combat. He had been struck down trying to flee by something that left searing marked from a whip crisscrossed upon his back. With the dead Pride demon lying only a few feet away, the culprit was pretty obvious. Edric had been done in by his own cowardice, and the Pride Demon merely the device in which had sealed his fate. 

Echo felt the mark stir on the palm of her hand, and felt her muscles coil underneath her skin. Almost like she was about to have a seizure, and she cursed the timing for it could not be worse. But it was not a seizure that overtook her. Instead, her right arm shot out and was pulled by a unseen force she was propelled right of Marco's grasp and across the battefields. Her feet tripped over themselves to keep up with the pace, and her heart was beating too fast. Her emotions felt like molten fear boiling inside of her, and she felt her panic kick into overdrive when she realized the force was pulling her straight towards Edric's corpse. 

Cassandra did not see her. Her face was downcast, a lost and forlone expression on her face as the weight of failure fell upon her shoulders. Solas knelt beside Edric, his shoulders slumped and his hand encircled the dwarf's wrist as he stared at the mark with a broken look like all hope had been drained right out of him. Varric stood with Bianca clasped in his hands tightly as if he were about to shoot something, but his eyes could find no target that would suffice for his misplaced fear and anger. 

And it was Varric, out of the three, that first saw her. His expression went from somber to 'oh, shit' in three seconds flat and would have been comical if the circumstances had been different. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "Mockingbird, what have you done?" He said, his voice raised in trepidation. 

Echo didn't get a chance to answer, even if she could. Instead, her body skid to a jolt right beside Edwin's and her right palm flung itself towards the dead dwarf. The green mark on her hand start to wind tight, and she felt it crackle violently against her skin. A tendril of green swirling magic lifted off Edwin's body and gasps of fear and terror echoed from all around. Then suddenly the magic lurched forward, straight into Echo's palm. Her head snapped backwards, and she let out a howl of pain up towards the Breach. The tear on her cheek rip even further open, and a fresh wave of blood coated the inside of her mouth as her muscles contracted and loosened just as fast. It was like a seizure, but beyond any magnitude that she had never felt before. 

Her heart pounded faster than a hummingbird's wings. Her head throbbed, all thought and memory being driven out because the pain was just _too_ much. Her lungs burned like two rage demons had slithered up inside of them, and her stomach seethed and twisted into knot after knot. The power left no inch of her uncheck, running across her from head to toe. Abrasive and observant it roamed across her, before it invaded her very soul. The power dug into her skin like hooks, into her ears like worms, into her mouth like liquid fire and into her eyes like burning acid. Her nerves felt like they were being flayed layer by layer, like she was being unmade and then sewed back together at neck breaking speed. Her soul had been exposed to the most vulnerable state a soul could be, and her screams grew so loud that those around her thought they reached the very heavens. 

Her back bowed, and her legs trembled. It was miracle that she still stood, and the Breach above was an indistinguishable mass to her tear filled eyes. She couldn't even breath anymore, her lungs felt like shriveled up husks in her chest and felt all thought of being driven out of her mind. Finally after what felt like forever, the mark moved underneath her skin using her veins, muscles and sinew to join the rest upon her right palm, and Echo's legs buckled right from underneath her. Her knees hit the ground hard, but she didn't look like she even felt it. Her expression slumped like all the life had been spent right out of her, and her head fell backwards. Her eyes were glassy and unblinking stare eerily reflected the swirling Breach, and if it were not for the face that her chest rose with stuttered breaths, she would look dead. 

"What just happened?" Cassandra demanded, her sharp eyes darken with anger as she stared at Echo with growing mistrust. Her heart felt hardened after Edric's escape attempt, and to see the female elf from earlier had the mark, too, only made it grow as hard as stone. 

"Something that should have been impossible," Solas commented, his voice sounded far away to his own ears as his blue eyes stared at Echo as if she were like nothing he had ever seen before. And she wasn't. That mark that had thrashed, and clawed at the dwarf's hand would have eventually consumed him. Now, the power rested completely on Echo's hand more content and thummed happily as if it belonged there. It was unnerving that the power of his foci had latched onto Echo is such a way, and had removed the mark from the dead dwarf as if it had been her very right to do so. The only thing that kept him from being suspicious that this had been planned had been pure terror and fear that was on her face as she absorbed the power. 

"Did you know about this?" Leliana demanded, her violet eyes on Varric. Her face spoke ill for his future if he had withheld this information from them, and her lips were dipped down in a severe frown. 

Varric glared. "No, I didn't, but if I had I wouldn't have told you," Varric spat out before he rushed to Echo's side after slinging Bianca on his back. He reached out, and placed one hand on her shoulder while he used the other one to tap her face gently. "Mockingbird? Echo? Don't force me come up with another nickname for you. Come on, kid, say something. Anything." 

"Sister Leliana," a scout from the group that Echo had saved stepped forward with Marco and Lisette. 

"Scout Taron? You are alive," Sister Leliana said, a flash of relief too quick for anyone to catch passed her face before her features were entirely blank. Her composure was as cold as ever, and she stepped towards the scout with purpose. "How many others survived?" 

"Three of us," Scout Taron said, with a tired bow. "We lost Jote, Callen, and Feanor. If it weren't for the templars and the lady who sealed the rift, we would have been nothing more than a blood stain left behind by the demons." 

"Sealed the rift?" Cassandra's head snapped towards them. "What do you mean?" 

"There was a rift, Lady Seeker," Marco said, politely. "It is what delayed the patrol. We had managed to arrive just in time to help the patrol, and after we beat the demons back, gave the potions we had. We let our guard down, and was unprepared for a second wave of demons to come flooding through. Jote was lost, and Echo sustained bad injures." 

"The mage insisted to come despite that, Seeker," Lisette commented, quickly. She may have not like to have been taken surprise by Echo's apostate status like they had, but the woman was determined to try to seal the Breach. She could respect that. "She wished to make sure the Breach was sealed at any cost." 

"M-mage?" Cassandra sputtered. "She is an apostate?" Her brown eyes cut into Echo before they flickered to Varric with thinly veiled anger and suspicion. 

Varric scoffed, slightly. "You really think I was going to announce Echo was a mage, Seeker?" Varric said, looking at her over his shoulder. "Especially after what at the conclave echoed what happened at the Chantry in Kirkwall?" 

Cassandra had the decency to look chagrin. 

Leliana rubbed her chin thoughtful. "If her mark sealed a rift, and absorbed the prisoner's...it is not a leap to assume that she could very well seal the Breach, is it not?" The spymaster questioned. 

Cassandra let out a breath. A hopeful look stirred in her eyes, and she looked towards Solas. "Solas, what do you believe? Do you think that her mark could truly seal the Breach and stop this madness?" 

Solas crossed across the ash covered ground, and knelt by Echo's side. He pulled up her hand with the mark, and ran his thumb gently across it. His power had tried to return to him. It had not wanted to be on the dwarf's palm, but it was different now. It was more tethered and coiled into Echo's being than he had imagined was possible. He didn't know what this meant for his plans, and uncertainty was not a feeling that he was accustom to. "Possibly," Solas inclined his head, with a grim twist of his lips. "But she will have to be concious. The power is after all tethered to her will. While I can coax it to the surface, it will be her that will have to seal the Breach." 

Cassandra shared a look with Leliana, before she nodded her head sharply. 

"Now, wait a moment!" Varric started, vehemently. "She is no condition to seal that Breach! Hell, she isn't even concious right now and a half a breath from death!" 

"We have little choice, Varric," Cassandra stated, not unsympathetic. "The Breach will not wait for her to wake or get better. If we wait, we will be overwhelmed once again and that is something we cannot afford." 

"She wanted to help. She knew there was a chance...that she might not make it," Marco offered up, awkwardly. "But she still wanted to try, no matter what." 

Varric stood there, trying to come up with some idea or plan. He found none, and his shoulders slumped in despair. "Shit, Mockingbird," he whispered out, his voice hoarse. "Didn't I tell you not to be so selfless?" 

Echo gave no reply. 

"Do what you must, Solas," Leliana told the apostate. 

Solas frowned, but nodded. He ran his glowing fingertips from her marked palm then swept up her arm, stopping to pool some healing magic into her shoulder that had been tore up by a demon's claw then up to her neck. If the terror's talons had been only a half an inch to the left, it was would have ripped out the main artery. She would have bleed to death in second. His thumb gently pressed the flesh back in place and the skin tethered back together underneath the gentle blue glow. His fingertips ghosted up her chin, and across her cheek until it too healed. 

Then he pressed his knuckles against her eye were a demon's claw had sliced downward. Only a hair deeper, the claw would have gouged out her and left her blind. As it were, she would be left with light scarring that given time might fade until it was barely visible. He drew in a deep breath, gathering more of his mana and gently grasped her consciousness tugging it forth. 

The light slowly returned to her eyes. "Wha...what..." Her words were slurred. 

"Hush. Save your strength," Solas told her, not unkindly. "You will need it to seal the Breach." 

"The...Breach?" She whispered. 

Solas gave her a quick sympathetic look before he carefully wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her back against his chest. His thighs rest on either side of her hips, and his other arm skimmed down her arm until his hand covered her mark one and the magic trembled in the air between them. He could see the colors dancing in the air, more vibrant and wonderful than that brief moment in Haven. He could feel her presence in a way that shined like a beacon where everyone around them shined like a dying ember. 

"S-solas..." She was scared and confused. Her head bobbed, and slumped against the crook of his neck too tired to keep it up. Her breaths came in puffs, and she couldn't think properly. "Wh..." 

"Ir abelas, da'len," Solas whispered out, his breath stirring the loose strands of her hair ever so slightly. He could feel her trembling against him, and he cursed his magic in that moment. For whatever reason, it chose her and had placed the bright soul—the first flash of color that he had seen in his dark world—straight in this dark and ugly path of his own creation. This beautiful soul could very well be extinguished because of his foolish choice. "This task has been left to you. You only carry the mark now. It's power will not pass to another if you fade. It will die with you. We must seal the Breach now, or all will be lost." 

Echo must have realized what he had meant, and she stared at the Breach. It was so much. It was like the eye of the hurricane, calm and quiet yet the threat of brutal devastation lingered so close. She felt so small underneath it, and doubt surfaced in it's wake. "I...I can't..." Echo choked out, tears leaking out of the corner of her eye. 

"You must," Solas told her, his tone firm, but not unkind. Without another word, he lifted her hand towards the sky and like he had with Edric, he shoved his mana forth into the mark. The mark glowed bright, and her fingers pulled taunt as a bolt of pure power connect to the rift above them. Echo fought against Solas—not because she wanted to, but her body reacted against the pain. It was like the Breach above was ripping her mana from her, and after her mana was spent, it went after _her_. 

_Close!_ It had worked on the other one. Echo bit the inside of her cheek so hard it went numb, and she felt her breath sharpen. Her lungs began to boil, and the arm around her waist tightened. She heard Solas whispering to her in elvish, his words gentle and an anchor that she so desperately needed. _Close! Shut! Seal! CLOSE! CLOSE! CLOSE!_

A powerful blast knocked them back, and Echo's world _finally_ faded to black. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> First I would like to apologize if this chapter isn't as up to par as the previous. My hard drive crashed on one computer then a virus infected other. I had write this out twice and lost it. It made me angry. So I just wanted to get it done swiftly because it was like overcoming a mountain to get where I wanted to get to the next part or the story, and I'm pretty pleased with it.  
> Next Stories in the Series Will come at the same time.  
> "Branded" -- An expected arrival to Thedas could change everything. (Who is this mysterious arrival? The end of this story will give a big clue that any Dragon Age fan will be sure to pick up on, and there are other clues in previous chapters that will become clear with it.)  
> "Through Ashes We Climb" -- Old friends reunite to seal the Breach, and in doing so sets Thedas on a vastly different course. For better or for worse.  
> 1.)"Eldorado" by Edgar Allen Poe. This is the first poem that Echo speaks. It's one of her ticks, that when stressed or in fear that she sings songs or remembers quotes or peoms that mean something to her. For me, I chose E.A.P. because one I loved his works and two because it fit the mood of the chapter so well.  
> 2.) Spirits are intelligent. Even wisps have a certain amount of intelligence, whereas the older spirits who have defined themselves are able to talk and have personas. However, in my cannon when spirits are twisted into demons I feel that they become more animalistic, and less intelligent. Like an abused animal that's only instinct is to lash out. Can they learn as they grow? Most certainly. After Nightmare was quite intelligent, but I feel that demon has to feed and grow before it regains it's intelligence.  
> 3.) Echo's a fighter! Why did she get her butt kicked this chapter? Okay, who while playing this game never had one of their characters die? And secondly, Echo isn't a fighter. She knows enough to survivor, but she isn't battle ready like the rest of them. She bit off more than she could chew, and she places a higher value of other's lives than her own as seen when she orders Marco to give the potions to scouts. Also, Echo didn't know that the rifts would come in waves of two. Before this point, the rift only happened in one wave. After you talk to Chancellor Roderick is the first time they encounter those kind of rifts so I wanted there to be that moment where, 'Good, it's going to be alright' to go to near death in a matter of seconds. They let their guard down, and it was a harsh less that Echo needed to realize to become a better fighter. Also if you've seen the drawing I did over Echo, this is where she gets her scars. Besides I like characters that struggle, that get nitty and gritty and have to deal with the hard emotions without easy answers and being able to fly through every challenge as easy as spreading butter. It makes an OC seem more real to me. :D  
> QUESTION: What actress or model do you think looks like she could be Echo? Let me know your suggestions and I'll choose the best one and I'll make a banner for next chapter. :D (see last chapter for the picture I drew)  
> RRS are appreciated. :D


	6. The Calm After the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas worrying what Echo having the mark means, everyone talking Echo and Varric fills in some blanks. Echo has a weird dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ARE ALL AMAZING AND WONDERFUL SO WONDERFUL! The response to this story makes my day, and makes me keep going. Thank you so much. :D  
> Also I am working on WordPad right now because my Microsoft Work stopped working all the sudden, and I apparently have to rebuy it because I had to delete it off the computer. It was just not happening. So if you see any mispelling or any typos please feel free to tell me.  
> I want to thank Guardian_of_Chrona, AnieActuality, Kbrock1, NikaraNox, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, modifer, Hexilian, Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel, seraphem31, moiha, wolfzero12, Asha_revas, Opiesterling, Essindra and chain0425 for bookmarking my story. :D  
> I want to thank Nadine, Krystylsky, nanami34, Sternenstaub, and JohskatheWise for the comments. :D  
> I want to thank melgonzo, Jisa, Lady63077, WhiteInkPenpal, nyaneki, Sehlib, UsakoAuditore, AnieActuality, DarkAngelDisuke, thetinymouse, akharding91, bakaprincess85, poetikat, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, elemenop22, Hexilian, catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Boraluven, chain0425, JohskatheWise as well as 42 guests who left me the lovely kudos!
> 
> Songs that Inspired this Chapter:
> 
> "Burning Bright" by Shinedown
> 
> "O'Death" by Kate Mann

CHAPTER SIX 

“The Calm After the Storm"

* * *

Solas had many thoughts. They were incessant like the buzzing of a fly, and weighed heavy as a mountain upon his mind. He sat in the chair, his elbows rested upon his knees while his chin was perched upon his intertwined fingers. He stared deeply into the flickering fire burning low in the fireplace, and his face was turned deeply into a frown. So much had happened in this last week, and much had been tied to his poor—an inadequate word—decision in giving Corphyeus his orb. The explosion had been a likely outcome, and he had know the carnage it would cause. But he thought the sacrifice would have been worth it to unlock the orb’s power, and to take out such a threat as Corphyeus. A miscalculated that had cost the world so much more than he had imagined. A soft whimpering sigh caught his attention, and his tilted to look over at his patient. Echo Harper had been an unexpected complication that he wasn’t sure what to make of. For one she shouldn’t have the mark. She was nowhere near the Breach, and therefore should have been relatively unaffected by it. Two, the fact she had the mark at all left him astounded and frustrated in equal measure. 

His magic had claimed her, or she had claimed his magic. He found no answers in the Fade, and Wisdom reminded him to be patient. He could not force the answers he sought to come to him. He had thought he had mastered patience, and yet here he fumbled like a curiosity child with their face pressed against a window. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, using a slight touch of frost magic to ease the crick there. He felt like a wolf injured, and that is when a wolf is most dangerous. The urge to snarl and snap at those around him boiled in the back of his throat, an urge he had to swallow down bitterly and placate everyone with the mask of a humble apostate. He may be Solas, apostate with a wealth of knowledge about the Fade, but Fen’Harel was a part of him as much as he ever was. 

Solas sighed, he had not wanted this. He did not know what to make of it. His magic had claimed her as _his_ , his to protect, his equal and her magic had not objected to it. Had not fought the intrusion, but had welcomed it. He breathed in through his nose, and rose to his feet and made his way towards her. His fingertips ghosted down her flushed cheek, her body temperature far too high to be normal as she twitched in a restless sleep. Her pulse was still racing too fast, and he wondered what in Fade she was seeing. He doubted her mind could properly construe dreams given the gravity of her fatigue; it was not everyday one tried to seal a Breach in the sky and was partially successful after all. 

He took the cloth and dipped into the basin nearby. Flissa had vacated the cabin at the Seeker’s behest, albeit reluctantly. Adan came and went, bringing what he could to aid in Echo’s recovery. It was obvious now to tell who were close to her because they still referred to her as Echo, while others begun to revere her as the “Herald of Andraste”. He may not know her beyond that short time upon the mountain, but he did not imagine that she would enjoy such a title. 

Dabbing her forehead gently with the damp cloth, Solas could not deny that she was beautiful. Her beauty would have drawn her several wealthy suitors back in the day of Arlathan even with the scars. If she was extremely unlucky it would have drawn the attention of June or Andruil, who often used their slaves as playthings to pass the time before deposing of them. Only a handful survived their time with the two, and were forever scarred by it. _Ghilan’nian the most unlucky of them all,_ Solas mused quietly. 

A soft sigh off pink lips drew his attention, and he watched as Echo unconsciously leaned into his touch. Her throat bobbed with a miserable sigh, and her hands twitched at her sides. The lyrium chains that bound her rattled, and the rage that Solas had managed to choke down resurfaced. He argued that such chains would only hurt the healing process, but the Seeker and Commander refused to budge. 

“Who are you, Echo Harper?” Solas wondered, out loud. “What will you do with your stolen mark?” 

He may not know, but he knew this. Echo Harper was a harbinger of things to come whether good or bad, and she had shocked him more in a single day than he had been in centuries. His lips twitched slightly at the thought, but the smile quickly fell away. He could not afford to think of her as a person, it would make his task only more difficult in the end. He could not abandon his path, not for anything or anyone. He already come too far, and done too much to take it back now. He was He Who Hunts Alone, and the Dread Wolf would find no allies here. 

* * *

Tensions ran high in the War Room, and so thick it could be cut with a wooden spoon. The torches flickered, the only source of light in the Chantry. Leliana, Josephine, Cullen had arrived first. Going over preparations for the living such as supplies, and to have the soldier build pyre’s after trying to identify what they could of the dead. Cassandra arrived only moments after. She all, but had dragged Varric into the war room. Solas had accepted the Seeker’s invitation with much more grace, and walked in with his hands folded behind his back. 

“I want to know everything there is to know about Echo Harper, and I wanted to know it yesterday,” Cassandra demanded, the flat of her palms against the table top. She looked as furious as the night of the explosion, and her lips were pulled back into a snarl. “Where does she come from? How did she get here? And most importantly how did she get that damnable mark upon her hand?” 

“I would also like to know how did no one know that she was a mage?” Cullen added, the scar on his lip more pronounced with his deep frown. He looks exhausted, and it was no wonder why. They hadn’t had a moment’s rest, not even after the Breach being temporarily stopped. The Chantry was pressing for answers, and the fallout of from the Divine’s death was now hitting everyone more harder now they had time to actually take a moment to grieve. 

“Should she have announced it?” Solas asked, his voice casual, but his expression one of barely concealed ire. 

“I’m just saying that her hiding the mark was alarming enough, but finding out that she is an apostate as well?” Cullen said, with a severe look. “I do not like it. It puts me…ill at ease.” 

"As does it us all," Leliana commented, with a nod. 

“What of the people? What do they make of Echo’s mark?” Cassandra inquired. The possibility of another riot on their hands was not one she cared for. It had taken great pains to keep the villagers from storming the Chantry dungeons and taking justice into their own hands when Edric had been brought down from the mountains. She was not sure they could have hold off another. 

“They say the mark is a test by Andraste. That only Echo passed the test for she survived where Edric did not in order to stop the Breach in the sky,” Jospehine commented, with a light smile. “There are even rumors that others were chosen—that a single individual of each race was bequeath the mark in order to prove their faithfulness, and only an elven woman was the one that survived the trial.” 

“It’ll keep the Chantry running in circles for the time being,” Cullen said, with a twinge of humor in his voice. “Though not for long. Once news spread about her being an apostate, it’ll be like a mabari that has smelt blood on the battlefield.” 

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It seems that many of the villages knew she was an apostate such as Adan, Seggrit, Flissa, but they kept silent,” Leliana said, with a look of consideration upon her face. “She is well loved by the people of Haven, and has many ties in the Hinterlands. Even with this discovery of the mark upon her palm, it has done little to dull their loyalty. They know that she was not at the conclave, from what my spies have been able to get out of them. They account her time being spent at the healer’s tent tending to the wounded and sick, before and after the explosion.” 

“Yes. I seen her only moments before the explosion,” Cullen spoke up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There was an incident with an elf. One of noble that came for the conclave thought it funny to throw a Dalish elf to the ground and stomp on him.” The disgust for the man’s actions burned in the Commander’s tawny eyes and he crossed his arms over his chest. “She intervened only seconds before I could do so myself.” 

“If she was nowhere near the explosion, then how did she get the mark upon her hand?” Josephine inquired. “There were several mages that were down in the village, and none of them bore affects from the Breach, other than increased nightmares.” 

“Yes, a good question,” Cullen nodded, stiffly. “While we are on the subject of the mages, I believe it would be wise to have templar patrols. With the veil pulled so thin by the explosion, the mages are struggling with fighting off possession. I would also include Echo in that as well.” 

"Good luck with that Curly," Varric snorted. "She'll have your templars running for the hills, if you dared try. Best to leave Echo to her own devices. After all she went through the other day, and still came out alright...I think she'll be fine." 

“I agree. Besides, templars are a poor solution,” Solas commented, his blue eyes narrowed. “With the tension over the Divine’s death running high, templars and mages will turn the blame upon each other now that the Breach has been quieted. Having the templars checking on the mages will be like adding kindling to a fire already aflame.” 

“True as that may be, we have to have some sense of security. What if one of the mages turns into an abomination in the middle of the night during their sleep?” Cullen shook his head. “It would a be slaughter before we can put the abomination down.” 

As much as Solas had disdain for the templars, he could not deny that the mages becoming abominations was a terrible concern. The circle mages were poorly taught, and most had only the barest knowledge of practically use of magic. They toyed with forces they barely understood, and in their ignorance who knows what might occur? The Breach in the sky left the Fade pressed close; with the fear and pandemonium in the air would only attract the attention of demons more than usual. “Is there no way to compromise?” Solas asked. 

“If you have any suggestions, we would gladly hear them, Solas,” Cassandra stated, serious. She respected the apostate for what he had done by coming to offer them aid, even when it would be wiser for one such as him to stay away. But she could not ignore the threat of abominations. 

“A tonic can be made to give a dreamless sleep. Until the mages can accumulate to the Breach as best as they can, and handle the dreams on their own,” Solas said, his hands clasped behind his back. “A crutch, if you will.” 

Cullen frowned, mulling it over. “I suppose it would not hurt to try. However, if a mage is still having trouble despite this tonic that you suggest, I want them to check in daily with Lisette,” the Commander said, firmly. He did not like the idea of mages running completely unchecked, but he was not a templar anymore. He could not afford to think solely as one. 

“Fair enough,” Solas inclined his head. “I shall show Adan how to properly brew it, though we may need someone to gather the herbs.” 

“I can spare a few scouts,” Leliana offered, easily. 

Solas would have smirked if it wouldn't have given him away. He knew that this was Leliana’s casual way of keeping a check on just what items that he brought into Haven. If he truly wanted something dangerous, he could do it himself leaving her scouts none the wiser. He nodded his head, in agreement. “That would be appreciated,” the mage said, with a small smile. 

“Good. Now, back to the matter at hand,” Leliana said, smoothly. “Varric, you know Echo, yes? Before she came to Ferelden,” Leliana stated, firmly. Her violet eyes cut into the dwarf, and he knew that he couldn’t lie about this. 

“Yes. Back in Kirkwall,” the dwarf replied, gruffly. 

“Funny. You never mentioned her in any of your tales about the Champion,” Cassandra commented, folded her arms over her chest. 

Varric grimaced. “Look there is a reason I kept Mockingbird’s story out of the book. First off, it was so unbelievable that I doubt anyone would ever buy it. Secondly, Echo is my friend and I wanted to protect her. She can hold her own in a fight, but there are things that she is…very naïve about. Things that can land someone in hot water if they aren’t careful,” the dwarf said, ruefully. He didn’t want to tell them about Echo’s past, but given recent events, he wasn’t seeing a way to lie his way out of this. Didn’t mean he had to tell them _everything_ , but he had to tell them enough. “It’s why Hawke hired her as his cook, and not a regular companion like Fenris, or Merill, or even myself was. She didn't tagalong often because we knew that Echo was different, and in a way that would attract a lot of attention. Not all attention is the good kind as you well know I’m sure, Seeker.” 

“Get to the point, Varric,” Cassandra said, darkly. 

“Fine. You see Hawke and I were offered a lot of coin from a snotty noble to check out an elven ruin that was discovered on the Wounded Coast. It had been uncovered by a hurricane, but the area was unstable,” Varric explained, reluctance in his voice. He obvious didn't want to share this story, but felt there was no other choice. “We had a limited window of opportunity to explore it and recover anything of value in it.” 

“A limited window of opportunity?” Solas asked, flatly. It took effort to keep the disgust out of his voice. Humans profiting from the bones of his people made his gut twist painfully, and awoke an age old rage buried deep in his chest. He leashed it and bound it as swiftly as it came for he could not allow his mask to slip in front of present company. 

“It was sinking into the ocean,” Varric said, with a wry grin. “Merill was beside herself with excitement and worry. So we go to the ruins, and we start checking out when we hear this ear splitting scream that would put a darkspawn Shriek to shame. So, of course, Hawke goes running towards it without a second thought. Imagine our shock when we come to this giant cave in, and down below struggling against the tide and some nasty spiders, is none other than Echo Harper.” 

“Echo was exploring the ruins, too?” Solas’s brows lifted. 

“Uh, well,” Varric hesitated, because damn, the truth was really weird. “Sort of? I would say she was more part of the ruins, than saying she was exploring them.” 

“I don’t understand. How can she be part of the ruins?” Jospehine said, with a look of confusion upon her face. 

Solas felt his heart stop in his chest. Surely the dwarf was not suggesting what he thought. He fought against the feeling of validation that swell upon his chest, and kept his eyes riveted upon the dwarf. 

“I’m saying…is that the ruins were for ancient elves that went into the deep sleep from Daisy could make out. I don’t know the proper term, it was some weird long word that I couldn’t pronounced if I tried,” the dwarf huffed, uncomfortably. 

“Uthenera,” Solas supplied. 

“Yeah. That.” 

Cassandra reeled back from the table as if struck. “Surely you are not suggesting what I think you are suggesting?” The Seeker said, her voice a harsh mixture of awe and disbelief. 

“That depends what you think I’m suggesting, Seeker,” Varric said, drolly. 

“Are you…” The Seeker took a moment to shake her head, before she looked back the rogue. “Maker’s breath, are saying that Echo Harper is an ancient elf?” Cassandra challenged, incredulously. 

“An ancient elf?” Jospheine gaped, her eyes wide with wonder. “Could you imagine if it were true? How many scholars would wish to speak with her? To talk with her?” 

“And how many more would wish to discredit her just as quickly? How many would come to attack?” The harsh comment came from Solas’s lips. “The fact that if she is an ancient elf that predates the founding of the Chantry and the belief of the Maker would raise the ire of a great deal of people.” 

“Indeed,” Leliana inclined her head. “The Chantry is quiet because they do not know what to make of Echo, yet. In time, they will see her as a threat as surely as they did Edric and if the story of her origins become well known, no matter how factually or false it may be, will be something they will use against her.” 

“I can’t tell you for certain that Echo is an ancient elf from before Tevinter’s time. I’m not even going to sit here and try to make you believe that. All I’m going to tell you is what I know for a fact,” Varric stated, his tone firm and serious. It was a great departure from his normal sarcastic facade. “I know for a fact that Hawke, Merill and I saved her from drowning in an ancient elvhen tomb that sank into the sea at the Storm Coast. I know for a fact that she didn’t speak a lick of common, and that whatever language she spoke was one I had never heard before and I’ve dealt with a variety of people, alright?” 

“Were you able to ever confirm that it was actually elven she spoke?” Jospehine wondered, her head tilted the side. A stray dark curl fell into her face as she scribble down on the paper. 

“We took her to the Dalish. They were a little affronted that an elf without their blood tattoes spoke better elven than their Keeper,” said Varric, his brows furrowed. “We didn’t get exactly the warmest of welcome. They were extremely defensive. Some of them believed Echo to be an agent of Fen’Harel, but that was probably because Daisy liked her so much. Keeper Marethari was curious, but she didn‘t want any more dissonance in the group so she turned Echo away.” 

Solas’s expression twisted. The story echoed his own experience for the Dalish, and it made anger boil in the pit of his stomach. He was appalled by what the people had become, but the Dalish most of all. Their efforts to preserve the past were admirable, but they were disorganized. Their held tightly to their misinterpreted beliefs, each clan having a different version of the truth and so set in those truths they were unwilling to challenge them--change them if they found proof that did not support what they had believed. He swallowed harshly, feeling his power crackle against his fingers tips and reigned it in swiftly. “I’ve found the Dalish foolish at best. It does not surprise me that they would so easily turn away one that could give them all the answers they claim to so desperately to seek,” Solas commented, his tone very light. 

“Yeah. Hawke thought that, too,” Varric nodded. “We both knew Echo was something special. It wasn't just because she could speak ancient elvhen, either," the dwarf said, with a deep breath. "Look, I could tell you more about how the world around her was completely foreign to her. How the daily things were concepts is something that she struggled to grasp. How much things counts, what was offensive and what was proper, and more. Much more.” 

Leliana hummed. “Is there anything else you need to tell us about Echo, Varric?” She asked him, delicately. She could tell that there was something the dwarf was holding back. 

“There is…something else,” Varric said, pinching the bridge of his nose. These last few days had been some of the longest that he has had in a while and he’ll be glad when it is over. “Not sure how you are going to take it, though.” 

“Just tell us, Varric,” Josephine said, encouragingly. 

Varric ran his tongue against the back of his teeth then sighed. “There is another reason I kept Echo out of my tale. There was an incident in Kirkwall. One that…that was the main cause for Echo to live for Ferelden,” he said, drumming his fingers against the top of the table. He knew he couldn’t leave this part out because he had little doubt that the spymaster would find out after some prodding, and he rather like his head on his shoulders instead of in the Seeker’s trophy case. “You remember the story of Feynriel?” 

“The Somniari? Yes, I remember it,” Cassandra narrowed her eyes. 

“Echo was there,” the dwarf said, quickly. He closed his eyes preparing for the Seeker to start throwing things at him. 

“You little…” Cassandra almost snapped, but with a look from Leliana managed to reign in her tongue at the last second. “Continue, and this time, no more lying,” her voice was hard and brisk, her hands turned into fists that quaked. 

Varric cleared his throat. He supposed he could do that. As long as she didn’t ask him about knowing where Hawke was, technically he wouldn’t be lying _anymore_. He doubted she would see it that way. “Echo went into the fade with us. At first, everything was…I guess, normal? If you can call the Fade that,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “There was a Pride demon that was extremely interested in Echo to the point it freaked her out.” 

“How do you mean?” Josephine asked. 

“Kept telling her how it could help her remember. That it could lead her home. Making her promises, and such,” Varric said, with a wave of his hand. “She didn’t fall for it, but it did shake her up though.” 

“I imagine anyone would be after facing a Pride demon,” said Cullen, with a grimace. He knew how troubling demons could be, and he still felt the pain inflicted by his so many years ago. 

“But…that’s not where it gets weird. When we left the Fade after helping Feynriel,” the dwarf continued, after taking a deep breath, “something followed us out.” 

“A demon?” Cassandra asked, warily. 

“No. Shadow warriors. Like the kind I’ve only seen on elven holy grounds. They looks like a shadow of elven warriors,” Varric explained, wearily. “The only other place that I seen them was on Sundermount. Keeper Marethari was alarmed to see them at all let alone pouring out of the Fade, and in such a great number. It took everything all of us had to finish them off, and they wanted Echo. Badly.” 

“I remember that. Meredith was certain there was blood magic at work, but the templars could find no evidence of it. Still she wanted us to bring the apostate in. Echo was the apostate, wasn’t she?” Cullen questioned, his eyes narrowed on Varric. 

“Now don’t be like that, Curly,” Varric smiled, thinly. “You know that Meredith planned to have her made tranquil before Echo made it through Circle doors. There was no way any of us were handing Echo over to the Circle.” 

Cullen looked away because he could not deny the charges. The Knight-Commander by that point had become completely irrational at best, and at worse…he did not want to think about. His time in Kirkwall was a time where he had allowed the horrors of his past blind him to those he was meant to protect, even against his fellow templars. The weight of failure was one that was heavy around his neck. 

"So that is why she came to Ferelden. To escape the Knight-Commander's persecuetion?" Josiphine theoriezed, scribblng something down. 

"Yeah. That's why," Varric said, quietly. "We didn't want her to. She had became part of the family, but Echo made the choice. She fled in the middle of the night and was on a ship before any of us realized." He recalled the hastily written tear stained note. "She wanted to protect us." 

There was a long somber moment before the spymaster interupted it. “Solas, I don’t suppose you have any insight into these shadow warriors?” Leliana asked the apostate. 

Solas frowned, deeply. “I have encountered these shadow warriors as Varric calls them in my travels. They are spirits of fallen elves that press against the veil in sacred places to the ancients. Ancient magic tethered their souls to be guardians until such a time that the elves returned to glory. But time corrodes all things. They are twisted and hollow forms of what they once were, becoming something dark and deranged that only knows of anger and hatred,” the elf mage spoke, his voice very grave. He dared not say anything more for revealing more than what was wise them to know. “If Echo is truly elvhen then perhaps that’s they were drawn to Echo because she is what they once were, and they hated her for it.” 

“That’s…creepy,” Varric said, suppressing a shudder. “But I guess it makes sense. A creepy sort of sense, but…” The rogue dwarf pulled a face, and pulled a flash out of his jacket. He didn't care about the look of disapproval that Cassandra sent him, and down the harsh drink. 

“A good explanation as any, for now,” Cassandra stated, though her tone implied that they would revisit this discussion further down the road. “Leliana’s sources says she came to Ferelden two years ago. I am assuming this incident with…the shadow warriors is why Echo left Kirkwall?” 

“That was part of the reason. The other part…” Varric snorted, with a grim sort of smile. “You see, most templars held a big grudge against Hawke since he was an apostate with free reign on the city because his status protected him. The fact that he protected Daisy, and Anders at every turn didn’t win him any favors,” Varric stated, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he ran a tired hand down his face. “Having a third apostate in his company? Seemed too much for the Knight Commander to bear, and she sent templars on the hunt for Echo. It didn’t help that Keeper Marethari decided to openly declare to the elves in the alienage that Echo was one of the ancients.” 

“Most likely in an attempt to sway them to Dalish beliefs,” Leliana assessed, shrewdly. “What better proof that their Gods exist if an ancient elf walks amongst them?” Her lips pursed as her eyes scanned the great map upon the table before them. “I had wonder what started the elven uprising in Kirkwall. We knew that the elves were being treated poorly after the Quanari left since many of them defected from Andrastian to the Qun, but we could never quite figuring out what triggered it.” 

“I suppose it should not come as a surprise that the Champion was once again at the heart of these events, too,” Cassandra stated, coldly. 

Varric spared her a quick glower, but shook his head. “I’m going to check on Echo, unless you still believe that she is somehow responsible for this, Seeker?” The dwarf said, his tone curt and sharp. 

Cassandra stood there for several moments silent, before she dipped her head in acknowledgement. “No. I do not believe that she had anything to do with the explosion at the Conclave. She risked a great deal by joining us on the mountain, and she saved that patrol when we thought them lost. She risked herself in many ways that day. These…are not the actions of a person who is guilty of destruction,” the Seeker stated, firmly. There was a bit of annoyance on her face at having to admit that she was wrong to Varric of all people. “There were the actions of a person trying to set things right no matter what the cost. Just like the rest of us.” 

Varric stood there for a long moment, before his shoulders slumped. "Well, that's something at least," he sighed, shaking his head then walked out of the room. 

“I shall go make a list of the ingredients that I will need for the tonic,” Solas said, making his graceful exit. He had much to ponder, given the revelation that Varric laid at his feet. It explained her use of magic that should not have been possible, and so many other things. It also made her far more dangerous to his plans than ever before. She had recognized something about him, of that he was certain. Did she know the wolf whom walked in her midst? Did she suspect? If she did, he would have to drastic measure. He could not eliminate her for the mark on her hand was the only way to seal the Breach, making her invaluable. He supposed he could leave Haven, and try to recover his orb from afar. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Solas decided he would seek out Wisdom tonight and speak with her, hoping that she could help put the war inside his mind at ease. 

Back in the War Room, the four that remained stood there for a long prolonged silence before Josephine decided to be the one who broke it. “Edric is dead. Echo’s mark is the only way for us to seal the Breach,” Jospehine pointed out, cautiously. “It would not be unwise to use this time to earn favor while the Chantry is still flummoxed by the recent turn of events.” 

“Yes. A tree is harder for a storm to tear from the earth if it’s roots are strong. I believe it would be wise to encourage this view,” Leliana stated, diplomatically. “Let it take root amongst the people before the Chantry has time to regroup and turn their ire upon her and by extension us.” 

Cullen scratched the back of his neck. “I am not one for such things like the Game, but I cannot deny is a good plan. We influence the people’s opinion before the Chantry can, and they’ll be playing catch up while we move ahead to focus on facing the real threat. But can we trust that she will along with it? Can we trust her? She did after all hide that fact she had the mark in first place," He added, with a frown. 

"We need to seal the Breach. She is our only way," Leliana stated, with a sly smirk. "And she will need us as much as we need her. There will be those that soon place the blame of the Conclave at her feet, and the Inquisition's protection will prove too tempting to pass up. This way we can seal the rifts, stop this war, and keep eyes on her at all times. Trust is a secondary concern as of right now," the spymaster added, with a shrug of her shoulders. "She will prove just who she is given time." 

Cassandra looked between the three of them. “I…I do not feel right making this decision without the woman, Echo’s consent. But I fear we have little choice,” the Seeker sighed, heavily. “Let us do what needs to be done." 

* * *

Solas sat crisscrossed underneath the canopy of trees. The leaves were lush and green, the magic twisted into the air in burst of colors and gentle music like chimes. His eyes were closed, and he breathed in deeply. The Fade almost made it all feel so real, almost like it had been before. He heard someone walked through the thicket, and into the clearing. He did not open his eyes, because there was only one spirit that he would allow to greet him here. 

"Your troubles echo through the Fade. Spirits and demons alike grow fearful," Wisdom spoke, her voice quiet and reassuring. She appeared as elvehen woman, though her form was a muted color like she had came off a painted canvas that mocked reality than actually being made of flesh herself. "They all wonder what has the Wolf that prowls the Fade so distressed, and what does it mean. What troubles you so, dear one?" 

Solas opened his eyes slowly. "Ma'falon, many things trouble me, and it seems as my troubles grow the less I know how to proceed. Everything I have seen has been called into question, and I am uncertain how to proceed," the apostate admitted, freely to only this spirit of Wisdom. She had his confidence since he was only a young elf of sixteen years, and help temper his hotheadness many times when his anger had led him astray. He had not always listened to the advice she given, much to his shame, but she still stood by him no matter what his choices wrought. "I assume you already know of her. The spirits and demons must have already spoke of the happens near the Breach." 

"Echo Harper," Wisdom nodded, slowly. "I've heard them speak of her. Many wisps, spirits, and demons press against the veil already to reinact what occured on that mountain. They seem drawn to her spirit, it cuts through the Fade like a lightning storm in the midst of darkest of nights."  


"What do they say?" Solas asked. 

"Do you not wish to ask them yourself?" Wisdom inquired. 

"Normally, I would, but I am too close to the Breach. None would dare to draw near. Well, none that are not you," Solas said, softly. "I would not have brought you so close if I wasn't so conflicted, and I promise that this will be last time. I do not wish for the Breach to hurt you as well. Forgive me, it selfish for to call you here when there is such danger." 

"Do not despair, Solas. I accept your apology even though it is an unnecissary one," Wisdom explained, lightly. "I will always be at your aid, and I do not fear for while the Breach is still there, the current of it has ebbed to that of a babbling brook before coming to a still. Despite this I do not wish to linger here overlong so close to it. Caution would serve us both well at this time I believe." 

Solas's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You believe I should be cautious with Echo Harper?" He questioned, with a slight tilt of his head. 

"Cautious means to be careful. Echo is an unknown, but if it helps to ease your worries...I believe it is for the better that the mark fell to her," Wisdom whispered, placing her hand on Solas's shoulder. "The dwarf's heart had been filled with darkness underneath a harsh life. He would have became a tyrant given the chance. Though...this is not what troubles you." 

"No, not entirely." Solas lowered his gaze, and his jaw clenched. "This world...it is like a painter living in a world stripped of all color and beauty. It is so far removed from what it once was, and part of me listens for the old songs—for the old hum of magic that lived with everything," he whispered out, closing his eyes. He shook his head side to side, mournfully. "Only to be rewarded with a silence so deep that it is like the loudest scream. And to know that this is the price for the choice I made..." He opened his eyes, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. "I felt lost. I looked around, and saw what I had done to the world. What I had reduced it to, and was determined to fix it no matter what the cost...and then she appeared. Unexpectedly and at first glance, I passed my gaze over her like I had with so many others. Another half life that was stunted from experiencing so much, and would never know the wonders that once were." 

"And yet this was not so," Wisdom commented, lightly. 

"No. It happened so fast the first time I half believed my eyes had tricked me. The swirl of life and old magic that came off of her. I dismissed it as time went onward," Solas said, his expression troubled and torn. "After the Breach had been temporarily stifled, I told myself it was my magic that made her more. That what I saw just couldn't be, and whatever bond was forged was a mistake. That my magic forced her to bond with me, just like Andruil had with Ghilan’nian. It made me ill to think of it." 

Wisdom looked at him sadly, as he rose up off the ground and paced the across the ground. The clearing around them trembled with his unsteady emotions, and the constant hum from the Breach being so close stole from his concentration. "I was wrong, ma'falon," Solas whispered out. "I was wrong about her. She was not less, and she _shined_ all on her own. It reminded me of so much of things that are forgotten, but the world unknowingly longs for. She hid it from my eyes, hid it from the world, and I cannot help to think...if she could hide it then perhaps others have hidden it as well? Does they unknowingly hide their colors because they do not know use them? Could I be wrong about it all? Or is Echo Harper some kind a rare flower amongst weeds?" 

Wisdom was patient, and kind. She took his face into her hands, and bestowed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "You know my thoughts upon the path you have started on, and you know what I have advised on the matter. If you are looking for a lesson to understand this unexpected turn then perhaps, my dear friend, the lesson you need to learn is to not dismiss all around you so quickly," Wisdom smiled, indulgently as the spirit gently let go of his face. "You never know what beauty and wonders could be found beneath all the gray—all you have to do is to really look."

* * *

_Echo was suddenly there._

_Long and thin trees with bark as dark as the evening sky, and amongst the green leaves were roses. Some dripping red, and others snow white. The sky above was the color of purple, bright and neverending. Echo's brows pinched together, and she frowned at her surroundings. Something immediately felt off, but for the life of her she couldn't put her fingers on it. It was on the tip of her tongue, and then a little wisp that appeared like a ball of light floated down right in her face._

_She blinked, rearing back in shock. The wisp bobbed forward and bopped her on her nose gently before it jerked back as if it wanted her to follow it. "What?" She asked, softly. She eyed her all that surrounded her, and the realization hit her hard. This was the Fade. She was dreaming. What had happened? The last thing she recalled was trying to help on the mountain. Fuzzy images of fighting. Blood and the sound of scream echoed in her ears, and the sight of the Breach swirling directly above her before everything went black. the wisp bopped her on the nose again to tear her away from those memories. She blinked, and look at the wisp with confusion._

_"This way," the wisp bobbed with a voice as soft as the gentlest of breezes. "This way. This way."_

_"You want me to follow you?" Echo asked, slowly._

_The wisp bobbed excitedly._

_Echo stared at it for a long moment, feeling indecisive. Normally she trusted nothing of the fade. Even the smallest and innocent looking thing could easily lead you astray, and yet there was something about this wisp that put her at ease. Like greeting an old friend. "Alright...lead the way," she told it, with a slight nod._

_The wisp led her to a black and red checkered path. Urging her to follow her down it, and so Echo did. She had to step over the broken chess piece—a knight—and followed the wisp. They travelled through many places—from the deepest valley where the played, and waves at them as they passed to the highest mountain where Mother Goose flew over their heads. They ventured through a mine where seven dwarf—if Echo had counted right—were working, and after that they had passed a glass coffin that was thankfully empty. Snow White must have been saved by Prince Charming already._

_Echo had to hope across the rocks of a lake where Mermaids were bathing underneath the waterfall not far from her, and up above she saw a flash of green that flew through the sky with a light ball of light flowing it._ Peter Pan, _Echo guessed, with a half smile upon her face. She recalled putting on green shorts, t-shirt, and a part of green tights and pretending to be Peter Pan when she four years old. There was an obvious theme going on here with a bunch of fairy tales, and stories mixed in to make one giant area of the Fade. She could easily pick up the subtle hints and decipher what each and every story was. Many among her favorite stories she had read as a child, and part of her enjoyed seeing all the things around her. Yet there was underlining tension she could not deny. Where was this path leading here? And why? Who had created this because she most certainly had not?_

_"Wait. Do you know who made this?" Echo asked the wisp, jogging to keep up with the energetic thing. "Is that who you are taking me to?"_

_"Waiting..." The wisp whispered. "Waiting..."_

_"Waiting? Who is waiting?" Echo asked._

_"Why waiting on you, of course," a voice came from the shadows all around them, and Echo whipped around while the wisp flew behind her as if it were using her as a shield. The wisp trembled, as not expecting another spirit and peeked between Echo's hair almost like it was unable to stifle it's curiosity. "To start the tea party."_

_"Cheshire Cat," Echo guessed. The voice was eeriely simliar to the one in the old movie, and as she said his name, he appeared languidly laying on a branch in a tree up above. If any spirit could be happy as the Cheshire Cat there were only a few that came to her mind. There was no wrongness that came off of the cat so she was going to assume that he was indeed a spirit, and not a demon unless proven otherwise._

_"For now," the Cheshire Cat purred, stretching out and slowly sharpening his claws against the bark of the tree before he slumped back down. "Do you ever feel that you're running in circles like a hamster on a wheel? Have you ever thought that the only way you can get answers is if you hop off? Sometimes the long way around is not the best way around. Sometimes you have to go through the middle of it, and get a little messy...to find your way through."_

_Echo frowned. "Is there an actual point to your words, or are you just trying to put me on edge?" She demanded, lightly. The wisp beside her nodded, as if it wanted to know that, too._

_"Are you on edge? Good," the Cheshire Cat said, with a flick of his tail and wicken grin on his face just before his body began to fade away until only his wide yellow eyes were left hovering in the air. "If you aren't on edge, then you are wasting space."_

_And then he was gone like he had never been there. His voice echoed faintly all around Echo, and said, "A dull point missed, but a sharp one never fails. Be careful when you are pricked, and do not holler. The Queen does not like noise, and if you scream, it might be off with your head."_

_Echo stared at the spot he had before several moments, and wondered what in the Fade was going on. The spirits didn't malicious. They just left Echo confused, more confused than she had been before. With a heavy heart and the Cheshire Cat's words still ringing in her ears, Echo stared anew on the path._

_This would have been a child's dream of dreams. The spirits who were reacting these tales seemed to be having a merry time with the too many fairytales crammed into one, but Echo had already had enough after taking an unintentonal head dive down a sand dune after Aladdin zoomed past her on his magic carpet. "Ugh," she muttered, still brushing off the sand as they past Humpty Dumpty who had fallen off the wall, and the Kingmen were attempt to help him. _Aladdin probably did a hit and run on him, too,_ she thought with a heavy scowl. She stomped down the path, and shoved a branch out of her way when she came to an abrupt halt. "What? What?" _

_She was back where she had started._

_"Are you kidding me?" She nearly shouted, and the wisp trembled. She sent it an apologectic look because in her heart she knew the wisp was really trying to lead her somwhere, but it seemed it was having trouble right the right way itself. Echo closed her eyes, and drew in a slow breath concentrating all her thoughts into waking up. She even gave her arm a great pinch that hurt like a sonofabiscuiteater._

_It didn't work._

_With a huff of frustration, Echo pulled her eyes open and ran her fingers through her hair before she dropped her hands to her hips, and took a few paces forward. She glared at the path as her eyes could find some rhythm or reason to it. Was she supposed to do something before she woke up? Or was she in some kind of deep sleep, and couldn't wake up? "The path just keeps going in a loop, doesn't it?" Echo asked, and the wisp made a noise that gave her the impression of a shrug. "So we were just running around in a circle..." She froze, and blinked hard before her brows furrowed._

_She spun around in a one-eighty, and then another with a thoughtful frown upon her face. "Just like a hamster on a wheel..." She trailed off, and stared hard at the knight that laid broken in the path. There was a pawn up in a tree, and a queen that laid just a yard or two back from where she stood off in the grass. "Queen...he said something about a queen," she whispered underneath her breath, and walked over to the queen. She knelt down and rolled it over slowly. On the other side was an arrow carved into it's side._

_It was an arrow that pointed towards the a group of greenery that was flat like a wall, and stopped about thirty feet high. Echo narrowed her eyes, and whispered underneath her breath. "Maybe...I need to go through the middle of it."_

_A chuckle rippled through her as the wisp shoved playful on her back as if for to hurry up, and go after she had solved the Cheshire Cat's riddle. She got to her feet, and walked over to the bushes with her arms out stretched. Her palms brushed against the leaves, and she jumped back when a section of the plants slid inward like a hidden door. Echo stared at it with wide eyes, as it slowly moved out of the way and revealed a different area._

_Echo looked at the wisp, and the wisp looked at Echo. For a moment, they both were still. Neither of them moved, and then Echo dared to take a step forward. Then another until she leaned in to peek around the corners of the hidden door. It was a small enclosed area, hidden away to keep it safe from intruders. There was a large table in the center of the clearing, and a swing hanging of the branch of a large tree with a tree house in it._

_Echo took a cautious step forward, and the little wisp tried to follow, but it was held back. The wisp tried again, only to hit a barrier, and it let out an indignant huff. Echo sent it a quick smile over her shoulder, and assured the little wisp. "I'll be right back."_

_The little wisp let out a disappointed sigh, but laid down to the ground like a puppy at the end of it's chain, mournfully watching Echo venture further into the secret area. The air was cool, but a comfortable cool. A perfect day kind of cool, and the flowers and plants flourished under the sunlight that poured down from the sky. Yet there was a chaos to this place, and an overwhelming sadness. She stepped to the table, and noticed something written on the end of it._

Drink me. Shrink me. Fill me to sink me. _Echo's fingertips traced the words have been engraved at the end of the table filled with teapots, pieces of cakes and mushrooms. The center piece was a large potion's bottle with a blue churning liquid inside that bubbled up to top and rolled over to spill across the table top. Echo frowned, and lifted her gaze away from the table top to the beautiful garden. Flowers of all kinds lived happily entwined. Everything from roses to tulips and lillies to daffodils, with a vareity of colors of rainbow and she ran her thumb down the petal of the nearest one._

_This...was very deliberate. Everything from the stories on loop outside of this place, to the hidden door and invisible barrier. It was as if someone had went through great length to make this place, but the only person in all of Thedas that knew of those stories was her, wasn't it? Echo frowned, heavily. Her head snapped up when she heard someone humming a tune, and turned to see that she was not alone._

_About ten feet away was a woman. Her dark hair fell in waves just past her shoulders blade, and she wore a dark forest green sweater with a pair of blue jeans. Her back was turned to Echo so she could not see her face, but there was something so familiar about her. The woman sang with a voice, quiet and soft,_ "What is this? That I can't see with ice cold hands takin' hold of me? I am death comin' to excel, I'll open the door to heaven or hell...oh, death...oh, death, won't you spare me over another year..." _Her voice seemed to crack, and her shoulders slumped. There was something so broken and resigned about her posture that it hit Echo right in the heart. "The children pray, the preacher preach, time and mercy are out of your reach. I'll fix your legs 'til you can't walk. I'll lock your jaw til you can't talk..."_

_The woman's voice broke, and she fell silent. Her chest rose, and fell with breath. "Suck an elf," the woman cursed, and let the book she had held dropped to the ground with a thud._

_Echo's eyes widened because there was only one person she knew that used that curse, and she opened her mouth to call out..._ And she awoke with a abrupt haggard cough. She sputtered, her hands reaching up to wipe the smelly ale from her face. She blinked her eyes, and sat up slightly only to see Varric standing there with a smug look on his face. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLANATIONS AND INFO  
> OMG! A chapter and the main character is only in the last tiny bit. Yep, I did it. ;D  
> Author's Note: Trying to make a banner, but I am trying to get readers input on here. What actress or actor do you think Echo (drawing in ch. 4) looks like or would be a good fit? Someone suggested Emily Rudd, but I think she looks a little too young to fit the bill. Let me know what you think. :D  
> 1\. Don't mistake Solas questioning himself that he is ready to throw away his plans. He still plans on bringing the Veil down. But seeing Echo has given a moment's pause. It'll take a great deal more for the Dread Wolf to completely change his mind.  
> 2\. Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen and Josephine aren't going to trust Echo right off the bat. She did lie, and hide something vital. But they do need her, and the Breach is a threat that outweight the level of distrust they feel. Also Echo did help, and risk her life so that is some points in her favor.  
> 3\. The words engraved on the table are from Shinedown's "Alice". I recommend you guys go to youtube to listen to it. It is in my top ten favorite songs of all time.  
> 4\. Who is the mystery girl who created fairytale land in the Fade? You'll find out soon. Why did she create it? To protect herself. Mystery Woman painted the dreams, enticing the spirits so that they would be too invovled with reliving them like they were memories, and hide herself away. As to the song she is singing, it is "O'Death" by Kate Mann. What is up with all the singing and fairytale mentions? Well, that's just how I am, and I know a lot of people are, too. Music brings people together, it's been a staple in our history since the first person who sung a note. It can transend boundaries, even language boundaries and is such a big part of our culture as a whole. Stories are because we all see ourselves in a story in someway or form, and they teach valuable lessons. This is also a big part of culture. Also each song and each story that will be sung or told has a underlining reason behind it. They aren't just for show. :P


	7. For Those Who Toil There Is No Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WhitePenPal just wanted to let you know that I do approve of your second message, and if I had the balls I would have approved it on here because what you said was exactly what I thought. The semi-bad review that was left by that reviewer didn't bother me because it was just one bad one out of about twenty good reviews. I approved it cuz I'm not shy about the bad reviews. It's like 'oh, well, can't make everyone happy'. But thank you for that because it's nice to know it wasn't just me that thought that! :D
> 
> I also would like to point out the idea of "Lyrium chains" meant to bind mages was not my idea. I've seen it used in a couple of different fics, and I found the idea interesting so that's why I adapted it for use in my fic. No hard feelings? If you came up with idea originally and want credit, just review and let me know cuz I'll give you credit.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"For Those Who Toil There Is No Rest"

* * *

Cheap ale stank. There was no delicate way to put it. It was a bland, stale smell that had no redeeming qualities about it except if a person could down enough of it before the smell made them throw up it could make them forget about their troubles. At least, until the morning hangover brought it all back with an added night of back decisions on top of it. Echo, personally, couldn't stand the smell of the stuff and avoided the taverns if she could. And Varric knew that, so one could only image just how angry she was when she awoke to having it thrown on her. 

"Thought that would work," Varric said, extremely pleased with himself. He set the mug down on the intable quietly. "Adan and Solas both said you'd wake up soon." 

It took a moment for Echo to process all what had just happened. With the deafening drums beating in her skull and the sour taste in her mouth where it felt like a spider had nested, she sat up further with a painful groan. Her armor had been replaced by a white tunic, and beige leggings with boots to match. She tried not to think of being undressed while she was unconscious, and managed to level a glare at Varric. "So…you splashed me awake with ale?" Her voice was thick was lethargy. 

“It was either that, or the chamber pot,” Varric told her, only half joking. “I figured that the ale was the one that you’d prefer. 

Indignation. Anger. Confusion. All that flooded through her in the matter of a second, and her eyebrows veered downward in anger. She slowly wiped the remaining ale off her face when the clink of chains made her freeze in place, and she looked down at her wrist for the first time to realize that she was in _chains_. All the air was ripped from her lungs at this realization, and looked at Varric with wide eyes. "What...what are these?" She asked, eyeing the faint glow from blue runes carved into sides of shackles. 

Varric's smile fell. He took a deep breath, and sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Lyrium chains. Hand crafted in Ozammar for the Circle's personal use," he commented, a huff of disgust underneath his breath. "I tried to talk them out of it. So did Solas, but the Commander argued you were a mage and had the mark...Cassandra agreed, and so did the spymaster." 

"The Breach?" Echo’s chest shuddered. Her mind raced, and everything that happened on the mountain came rushing back with a painful focus. Everything from agreeing to go with Varric and Solas to meeting up with Cassandra and Edric to departing to look for the scouts. How they had found them, Jote's death, then Marco carrying her up to the Breach. "Did I seal it? Did the mark seal it?" 

Varric hesitated. 

"Varric, tell me," Echo said, even though in her heart she already knew. She already knew because the look of his face, and she felt bitter tears well up in her eyes. "Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit," she cussed, her voice filled with anger and despair. If she hadn't closed the Breach, then what had all of it been for? What had any the sacrifices made on that mountain meant it if the Breach had not been closed? She placed her head in her hands, and took a slow steady breath in order to not to give into the sudden urge to breakdown and cry. Visions of death swirled in front of her mind's eye, and the faces of the dead they could not save appeared and looked at her accusingly with their lifeless eyes. 

_You failed._ The words whispered off their pale, blue lips and straight into Echo's heart with all the force of freight train. Her chest shuddered, and her fingernail bit into the tender skin of her face. Not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to feel the sting. 

"It's stopped growing," Varric said, after a moment. 

"What?" Echo lifted her head slowly from her hands. 

"The Breach. You didn't close it," Varric told her, his tone uncommonly reassuring. "But it stopped growing. No more demons spilling out of it. It seems that your mark has stopped the whole in the sky threatening to swallow the world so we can continue to fight, and find a way to stop it permanently." His brow knotted together, and he muttered underneath his breath, "I should remember to write that down." 

Echo sat there still as a statue as she absorbed those words. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and looked at Varric as if she half didn't believe him. "So...it wasn't for nothing?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

It was as if a light bulb went off in Varric's mind, and he frowned deeply. His eyes narrowed so much that the lines along the edge of them crinkled. "Mockingbird, I don't think any of us would be here right now if that mark of yours didn't stop that that hole in the sky from growing. We'd all probably be dead, and Haven would probably been wiped off the map. Don't sell yourself short here." 

Echo almost smiled. She loved Varric's bluntness, and how he could hand someone harsh truths or dance around it more skillfully than an Orleasian at the Game. She also wish that she could allow his words to take root inside of her mind, but depression was a fickle thing. It was hard for anyone suffering from it to believe in their own worth, no matter how much reassurance and proof they were offered. She raked a hand down her face, tiredly. "I suppose I'm going to parade through Haven soon straight to the Chantry, aren't I?" She asked, wryly. 

"When they realize you're awake? Most likely," Varric smiled, thinly. "However, don't underestimate yourself here. You hold a lot of cards, and they aren't going to drag you the nearest chopping block if that's what you are afraid of." 

"That would be more reassuring if I hadn't awoke in lyrium chains," Echo said, scowling at the chains that were clasped around her wrists tightly, and kept her tethered to the headboard of the bed. Several dirty jokes could be made about that, but Echo just didn't have it in her to make them. "What is a lyrium chain anyways? I thought lyrium helped replenish mages' mana when it was low?" 

"Lyrium potions, yes," Varric said, giving a quick glower at the chains. "But this right here, the runes use the lyrium to draw the magic out of a mage so they can’t cast. Can get bad if they are left on for long periods of time I saw that shit in Kirkwall." 

Echo swallowed thickly. "I guess…I understand it," she admitted, reluctantly. The shackles made her arms itch, and burn ever so slightly. The kick of panic against her heart wasn't something she could stop, and she curled her quivering hands against her thighs. "I’m an apostate after all. One that’s been hiding since before the mage rebellion. With the mark on my hand, I can imagine what it all looks like." 

Varric got very quiet for a long time. His eyes flickered across the page of his book, not really reading the words at all. "Why didn’t you tell me, Echo?" He asked, raising his eyes to meet her. "I could have helped." 

"And what would you have me do, Varric?" She leaned her forward as far as her chains would allow her to, and sat up off the bed and let her legs dangle off the side. Her face was weak and weary and way too pale to be healthy. The chains on her wrists feeling heavier than was normal, or perhaps that was the lyrium runes upon it that leashed her magic tightly. Her heart felt like it was in her throat, and she hadn’t felt so scared in such a long time. "Drag you down with me if I was caught?" She asked, shakily. 

"I would have had you embrace the unpredictability of the situation," Varric stated, seriously, "and find a way to exploit it. Like I said before, you hold a helluva lot more cards than you think here. You just need to figure out which ones to play first." 

Echo let out a broke and watery laugh. She wrapped her arms around her waist as best as she could, and bowed her head. Her hair loose hair fell in front of her face like a curtain, and she let out a slow breath as her fingers bit into her ribs. "I don't want to be made tranquil, Varric," Echo whispered out, her glassy eyes stared at the bug that crawled underneath the floor board. "I would rather die than have that happen. I remember the tranquils at the Gallows, Varric. I remember seeing the bruises and cuts from where they were abused by the templars, and so promise that if it every becomes a possibility that—" 

"No one is going to make you tranquil," Varric said, sharply. "And if they tried they'd have to get through a whole list of people to do it, including Bianca and me." 

Echo's shoulders slumped slightly. "Thanks, Varric." 

"Don't thank me yet," Varric said, gruffly. "Cassandra might not make you tranquil, but she might throw a punch or two. And I know thanks to personal experience that the woman hits like a pissed off Druffalo." 

"Well...it beats the alternatives," Echo commented, allowing the ball of anxiety knotted up in her stomach to unravel just a hair. "Tranquility. Death. At least, I can come back from a punch." Running a hand through her hair, she lifted her head up and looked at her friend. "How long have I been out?" 

"Two days," Varric answered. 

"Shit," she cursed. 

Varric chuckled. "You can see why I was getting a little antsy. Besides, you looked like you were having quite the dream. All tossing and twitching," the dwarf commented, picking up a book from the in table. It was a work of Brother Genitivi's, and he idly flipped through it. "Nightmares?" 

"I..." Echo's brows furrowed, trying to recall the demon. She had the most bizarre feeling that churned in the pit of her stomach, and flashes of a dream that did not make a bit of sense. It was like a stone settled upon her heart, and she felt like she had forgotten something so vital like a lung, or a heart. "I haven't the foggiest idea," she stated, with a frown. "Which is strange because normally my dreams are more...solid, or just a blackness like I don't dream at all. I haven't a dream that was in between like that in forever. Nowadays I usually can remember them as surely as I do the waking world, but this dream...it's like trying to hold onto water in the palm of my fist. Impossible." 

"Well, I wish I could help you, Mockingbird," Varric said, turning a page. "But I'm not really an expert when it comes to dreams, so I wouldn't even know where to begin." 

"Right. Dwarves can't dream. I always forget that," Echo chuckled, lightly. It was an absurd thing to always forget, she thought with a light shake of her head. Rolling her shoulders to alleviate the tension built up there from a restless sleep, she eyed the dwarf out of the corner of her eye. "You know, you never told me how you knew Edric." 

Varric stiffened, slightly. 

Echo arched a brow slowly. "I could tell he was carta. They have a pretty distinctive way of fighting, and behavior. Is that why he hated you? Because the bad blood between you and the carta?" She questioned, quietly. One never knew what ears could be listening in. 

"That...and he was Bianca’s husband’s half-brother," Varric grumbled, running a hand down his neck. He expected Carta assassins every day for the rest of his life once they learned that he was nearby when Edric died. "They despised each other, but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the carta." 

"Shit." Echo hissed out. Varric had told her of Bianca—the person, not the crossbow. It wasn't because he wanted to, either. He just had little choice to tell the story he swore he would never tell. Hawke, Fenris, and Merrill had went out on some errand while Isabella had charmed a guy and gal at the bar taking them to her room. Sebastian had opted to stay at the Chantry. Anders was busy at the clinic, so it had been Echo and Varric playing Wicked Grace when a Carta member in disguise attempted to assassinate the dwarf. Varric gave many sly excuses for the attack, but Echo hadn't bought it. It didn't help that Bianca, the dwarf had broken into his room and was waiting when Echo chased after Varric determined to get the truth from him. 

After that, Varric resignedly told her the truth, and she had kept his secret, even from Hawke. She would never tell another soul unless it was by his request. "Shit," she repeated, again. 

"Yeah…shit." 

Concerned marred Echo's features because she knew that this was going to be a problem. "You know they will send people after you. It doesn’t matter that the Pride demon is what killed him. They’ll send someone after you just because you were there out of spite," Echo said, lightly. Sweat dripped down from her temples, and she felt slightly light headed. The shackles were becoming a burden that she couldn't deal with, and she couldn't wait to get them off. 

"Well, the carta is bitter like that," Varric smirked, grimly. 

Echo opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of the latch on the door. Her eyes darted upward as the door was pushed open, and Solas entered the cabin with a couple of bowls of soup in his hand. He paused in step once he realized that Echo was wide awake, and blinked in mute surprise. Echo met Solas’s blue gaze, and a jolt went through her entire body as if she had been struck by lightning. It was like a new level of awareness being awakened, and everything around her came into painful focus. She sucked in an air, and frowned at him certain that he had been the cause of it because there was twinge of wary amusement that flashed across his face. 

"Chuckles, you decided to visit?" Varric arched a brow. 

"I came to check on progress of Echo's healing," Solas commented, lightly. "It is good that you are awake. Some feared that you would never do so." 

Echo shook off the strange and unwelcome sensation that still clung to her skin. The mark on her hand fizzled quietly, and she clenched it into a fist. "I am always happy to prove someone wrong," she said, with a smile that looked more real than it was. 

"One good thing about you being awake means that you can feed yourself now," Varric said, with an unholy smirk upon his face. 

Echo went still, and blinked bewildered. "What? What does that mean?" She asked, with a suspicious frown aimed at both the apostate and dwarf. 

"Solas was planning on feeding you," Varric chuckled, looking almost gleeful about the look of embarrassment that crossed Echo's face. "Said you had been too long without food, and that we should get you to get you some broth." 

White hot mortification swept through her at the mental image that arose in her mind of Solas spoon feeding her, and the food dribbling down her chin. The image even came with a high chair, and a colorful bib wrapped around her throat like a babe barely months old. "You were planning to baby feed me?" Echo flushed with embarrassment. 

"Broth was substantial enough to curb your body's need for food, and was the easiest to give you given you unconscious state," Solas said, very matter-of-fact. His head was tilted to the side, and his blue eyes flickered across her from head to toe as if to determine her wellbeing from just a glance. "You were in need of nourishment, and were in no state to get it yourself. There is no shame in needing help." 

"Maybe for you," Echo said, caustically. 

Solas set the bowls down upon the in table, and turned towards her. Each movement slow and very deliberate as he was going out of his way not to startle her. "May I?" He asked, holding his hand up and gestured to her face. 

"Alright?" Echo said, with a light confused frown. 

Solas stepped forward, and grasped her chin between his forefinger and his thumb. He made her tilt her head backwards ever so slightly while his other brushed her hair out of her face, and tucked behind her ear careful to avoid the pointed tip. He then brushed that thumb across her right eyebrow past her eye, and across her cheek before he expected her chin and neck. "It has healed better than I expected, given the extensive scarring," Solas commented, his voice just above a whisper. 

"Scarring? What scarring?" Echo asked, eyes wide. 

Varric made a face while Solas shot the dwarf a quick side glance. "You did not tell her?" The apostate questioned. 

"I was getting around to it," Varric mumbled. 

Echo looked from one to the other before she shoved herself off the bed, and leaned as far as the chains would allow to reach her dresser. She ripped open the top drawer, and fumbled around before she found the small looking glass. She stumbled back, and before either man could offer objection, she lifted it so she could see her reflection. Her eyes widened, and her fingers trembled around the edge of the small mirror. She drew in a harsh breath, and collapsed back against the bed. 

Echo had never been particularly vain, or one to fuss over her looks. It was still shocking to see her face like that, and a part of her cringed at the sight of the scars across her face. She gently drew a finger over them. A scar that slashed down through her right eyebrow, and across her cheek shine all red and shiny like new scars always were. Another was ran from the left side of her jaw down the length of her neck, and stopped just before it reached her collar bone. They were not prominent, or even grizzly. They were light and had a silvery shine quality to them, and easily overlooked unless someone was up close or intentionally looking for them. 

"I guess I should consider myself lucky," she commented, lightly. She set the hand held looking glass down onto the bed softly, and felt her heart clench inside of her chest. 

"You should. Could have been worse," Varric said. 

Echo smiled. "That's very true. The scars make me look a little more terrifying don't you think? Maybe now Isabella will let me join her crew?" She said, with a laugh. She didn't want to cry right now, or show how upset she really was. It was one thing after another piling up on her in the span of fifteen minutes, and she pressed her knuckles to the back of her mouth to smoother back a hysterical noise. 

"Mockingbird, I hate to break it to you, but you just aren't cut out for the ruthless pirate," Varric snorted, with a shake of his head. "You're way too nice." 

Echo huffed, with mock annoyance on her face, but it was ruined by her lips twitching into a smile. Her eyes moved to Solas, and she dipped down slightly. “It seems that I owe you my thanks again, Mr. Apostate,” she commented, softly. 

“It that to be my new moniker now?” Solas asked, with the barest upturn of his lips. There was something about the way the apostate held himself that was different upon the mountain. He was more reserved, if such a thing was possible. 

“No way. It just doesn’t have the same ring as Chuckles,” Varric said, dismissively. 

“I think it fits,” Echo said, with a light smile. 

Solas arched a brow, and his lips parted. He had only gotten out a syllable of a single word before a sharp knock came at the door silencing the debate. Echo’s heart lurched into her throat, and she had a nagging feeling of just who was on the other side. An agent of Leliana’s or a servant sent by the Seeker. Either way, Echo could feel it in her bones that it would only be a matter of minutes until Haven all knew that she was wide awake, and her first stop would be with an impromptu interrogation in the Chantry. 

The lines of Varric’s face grew more pronounced with the severity of his frown. He stood up out of his seat, and made his way quietly to the door. He pulled the door open with greater care than necessary, and in the door way stood a young looking man dressed in scout’s armor. “Sister Leliana sent me to inquire…” The scout’s eyes lifted past the dwarf, and he cut off abruptly when he saw a wide awake Echo staring at him. “Maker’s balls, you’re awake!” His face then flushed when he realized what he had just said. “I meant, oh dear. I must tell the Sister at once.” 

And he fled like the devil himself was nipping at his heels. 

Echo cocked her head to the side like a curiosity kitten who had discovered something interesting. “That…was not the reaction I was expecting. I mean, I expecting yelling of a sort, but the whole running away bit,” she said, her tongue rolling over each word as if she were saying them for the first time. A nagging feeling started in the pit of her stomach, like an unpleasant tickle. “Was not expecting that.” 

She glanced over at Solas, and then her gaze turned towards Varric. There was something in the air. A tension that had always been there, but had been drawn tight the second the scout had shown up at the door. “I have a wonder, if you two gentlemen will indulge me,” said Echo, with a sharp smile and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is there _anything_ else _at all_ that I should know about?” 

“Well, now that you mention it,” Varric said, with a shameless little smile. When no flash of amusement crept into Echo’s hard gaze, his smile dropped and he ran a hand down the back of his neck. “There is one thing we have yet to mention. It’s not a bad thing…per say.” 

“Why doesn’t that sound reassuring,” Echo said, with biting sarcasm. She wasn’t trying to be mean, or hurtful with her tone. Though as soon as the words fell from her lips, she knew that they could be construed so. “I’m sorry, Varric,” she apologized, contritely. “I should not take my frustrations out on you. I’m just…fumbling. That’s what it feels like. That so much happened while I slept, and I’m fumbling to make heads or tails of it. And none of that is your fault. I’m sorry.” 

Varric had taken her anger with a grain of salt. “Mockingbird, I’m not going to hold it against you,” the dwarf said. “Especially considering the circumstances. I suppose that I’ll go and stall the spymaster. It’ll give you time eat, and prepare a defense.” 

Echo sent him a grateful look. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

Varric inclined his head, and walked across the threshold. The door swung back, and the metallic clank of the latch seemed thunderous against the silence. Echo dropped her head, and sigh worked its way up her throat. She placed a hand to her forehead, the palm slick and damp while her other hand rested on her stomach as urging the sudden roll of nausea. “God, this is a mess,” she said, underneath her breath. 

Solas gave a quick and grim smile. “To be fair, it would have been bigger one if you had not quelled the Breach,” the apostate commented, his graceful fingers picked up the bowl of broth and held it out to her. 

Echo gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, but I don’t think I can eat it…” she refused, politely. The stabbing pain behind her eyes had only increased in pain, and her stomach rolled. She closed her eyes, and pressed her fingers to her eyelids. The pressure helped to ease it away, if only for a fleeting moment. 

Solas paused, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You are in pain,” he stated, for it was not a question. “Why did you say nothing?” 

Echo shook her head, allowing her hand drop away. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice light. Her eyes opened slowly, and she fought to keep her smile fixated on her face without showing any ounce of pain. “Just a small headache.” 

Disapproval flickered through those slate blue eyes, and the apostate frowned at her. “You have been through an ordeal, and pushed your body well beyond its limitations. Even a small headache could be cause for concern,” he told her, his voice dipped down an octave and was harsh as the winter cold. He set the bowl down, and stepped towards her. “I should have checked your injuries with a spell, but I thought that you be reasonable enough to mention if you were feeling any distress. A lapse that won’t happen again.” 

A scowl appeared on her face. “It’s not that bad. Just a little pain,” she told him, wrapping her arms around her waist protectively. 

“A little pain can be a sign of a worse injury,” Solas retorted, the edges of his mouth tightened. “Your body gives off pain to signal something is wrong for a reason. Now, if you will allow me?” 

Echo’s lips pursed, and Solas held back a sigh. If there was ever a Spirit of Stubbornness, it would most certainly be attracted to the creature that stood before him. Those soulful eyes were hard, and lacked the softness that he had noticed when he first met her. _Good. She will need that fire to endure the trials ahead,_ he thought, noting the way her jaw trembled when she was holding that tongue of hers in check. He had seen it let loose honeyed covered words, and be cutting as well. A younger Fen’Harel would have eagerly discovered what other wonders that tongue and those pale pink lips could deliver while ruining her with pleasure for weeks at a time. 

Solas frowned, deeply. He admonished himself mentally as soon as the thought crossed his mind, and shoved it away. Now was no time to be thinking of her in such way. _Not that there would ever be a time to do such a thing,_ he reminded himself, coldly. She, along with this Inquisition, were a means to an end. It did not matter—he constantly reminded himself—what brief colors she spun in the world around her. The briefest of colors while beautiful could not mask the shades of grey that consumed the world. He had to harden himself against the doubts that she brought forth. It did not change the path ahead of him, and it was a path he must ruthlessly stalk alone. 

“Fine,” Echo said, her voice carrying a hint of a growl that amused the wolf buried inside of him immensely. “Do the spell, and check.” 

_“Ma nuvenin, da’len,”_ Solas said, with a nod. While he had not been the villain the Dalish claimed him to be, he had not been a hero, either. He had done horrible things for the sake of freeing his people from those that he had once called family. He had no illusions about himself, and what he must do. Necessity was a cruel mistress, but one he bowed to secure a better fate for this world. 

Echo was tense as his hands came to be on either side of her face. Not touching, and yet the hum of his magic poured off his fingertips. It was a touch in and of itself. Her eyes were downcast onto the floor, and she felt the uncomfortable gnaw of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had just apologized to Varric for taking out her misplaced aggression on him, and had turned around to do the same thing to Solas. _Why do I have to handle my emotions so poorly?_ The thought crossed her face as her misplaced anger faded, and she looked up at Solas with a silent apology in her eyes. 

“I’m being childish, aren’t I? Fighting with someone who only wants to help,” she said, with a rueful twist of her lips. 

Solas’s eyes flickered to meet hers for a split second before they returned to concentrate upon his task. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is a natural reaction to lash out when afraid or wounded. Though I wonder, why does it grieve you so to ask for help?” Solas questioned, his fingers putting pressure upon her skull. If he had been at his full strength, he could easily have plunged them right through the bone. Such viciousness was not above him when he had fought against his brethren, and the unknown element of her circumstance should have awaken such an old urge to protect himself by all means. Seconds past and no such urge came. His fingers did not ache to hurt, but aimed to heal. His magic through her gently, weaving through her skin with an incandescent glow and forgotten melodies that soothed the hurt left. 

Echo bit back a moan of relief. The pain gone replaced with a euphoric high that left her head dizzy, and before she could overwhelm by the sensation, Solas pulled his hand away. The magic faded away, and she let out a light breath. If that had only been a touch of magic, Echo imagined anymore would have her rolling on the ground like a happy cat high off of catnip. She ran her finger down her fingers across her temples that no longer throbbed with each move she made, and looked up at Solas through her eyelashes. 

“It is not that it hurts me to ask for help. I’m just not used to asking and receiving it anymore,” Echo replied, when she finally found her voice. It was true. Hawke, his group, and the few gems here at Haven and the Crossroads added up to about fourteen people in total that would help her if asked, without expecting something in return. Considering she had been in Kirkwall, crossed a sea and countless towns before she settled in the routine of traveling between Haven and the Hinterlands said something about the poor quality of people she had met. The racism against elves had not helped either. “But you did this without being asked…thank you.” 

He should be cruel, and throw her gratitude in her face. To strike a sharp edge against the softness she regarded him with in that moment, so she would not seek some form of companionship or friendship with him. End it before such a thing could even be conceived for it would be better for both of them in the long run if she saw him only as a tool to help the Inquisition. Yet, he could not bring himself to speak such words. It had been a long time since someone looked at him with something other than suspicion or wariness. Even though Cassandra and the others took what he said into account, there was still those watchful eyes waiting for the apostate to go mad and prove all their misguided notions right. 

Echo had no suspicions. Whatever ones she had were minute, and more about what they were not telling her about what happened while she slept than anything about him. She harbored no doubts upon his character, and that he was there solely to help. It was bittersweet, and Solas grieved for her trusting soul. For when the inevitability of the truth came out, it would burn that part of her and perhaps scar in a way that would ever not heal. 

“You are welcome,” Solas accepted her thanks, and this time he managed to get the bowl of soup finally to her. Due to the conversation and her stubbornness it was now cold. 

Echo gnawed on her lower lip. If the lyrium chains were not on her wrists, she would gather enough fire to her fingertips to simmer it back to a better temperature. Though she really shouldn’t complain. It was food, after all. There were many who didn’t get that. She started eating, and Solas got a self-satisfied look on his face that made her want to throw a spoon at him. It was disconcerting to be eating underneath someone’s watchful gaze, let alone someone like Solas whose gaze was sharp and critical. “So,” she asked, in between a bite, “what exactly is this thing that you and Varric have omitted from telling me?” 

Solas seemed to consider her for a long minute. “You efforts to close the Breach did not go unnoticed, and it seemed the people herald you as their champion,” he stated, the left corner of his mouth tilted upward. “The Herald of Andraste.” 

Broth spewed out of her mouth when she bit her tongue, and choked. She waved her hand when Solas took a concerned step forward, and it took her a few moments to catch her breath. “S-surely that’s…a joke?” She said, around a cough and wiped the broth that dribbled down from her mouth off. 

Solas gave a sympathetic smile. “I fear that it is not. It seems that to everyone that you are the Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all,” he stated, his head tilted to the side. 

He was serious. He was _completely_ serious. A numbness prickled along her scalp as her eyes widened in distress. A clawing sensation dug at her chest, and it was very hard to breath. Her hand quaked slightly as she gathered a spoonful of broth, and put it into her mouth. The rich broth tasted bland to her tongue, and she struggled to swallow it down for her stomach was a tangled mess. There was an itch that ran along her skin, an uncomfortable feeling of anxiety built up within her heart. She couldn’t make heads or tails over this supposed title of hers, other than the fact that she did not like it. 

“Sounds like a rather dashing figure,” Echo said, with clear dismay. She ran her spoon along the bottom of her bowl, and she felt a sinking feeling in her heart. An elf named the Herald of Andraste? Elves were looked down upon as little more than servants and savages depending on their backgrounds. They weren’t treated like people, and she had a bad feeling that there would be quite a number of people that would not like her new title. “But that’s just not me. I’m not some hero riding in on a shining white stead to save the day, and live happily ever after.” 

“I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they’re extinct. Joke as you will, posturing will be necessary,” Solas stated, his expression resigned. “I’ve journeyed through the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be,” he added, and to his great surprise, he truly was. She represent a mystery, and a piece of the past that was wholly unexpected. How she would shape the world before her was anyone’s guess, and part of wondered if it would be for the better. 

Echo wanted to laugh. People were thinking of her as a hero? The very thought made her feel unnerved to the millionth power. Which would be better? To be thought of as a crazy apostate with a mysterious mark, or a hero sent to save the world? Neither option appealed to her, and both invoked a deep seeded panic. “How do you find memories of ruins and battlefields?” She asked, seizing the topic in an effort to steady her racing mind. She needed to talk about anything, or think of anything that was not related to being a holy martyr. 

Solas took a second to marvel that there was simple want for knowledge in her tone. It was something he had become unaccustomed to hearing in this day and age. “Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history that can be explored, and found if one knows where and how to look. Battlefields, coronations, great feasts…anywhere a memory with enough emotions is imprinted upon the Veil, it will undoubtedly attract the attention of spirits,” he told her, a lightness to his voice that she hadn’t heard before. “They press against the Veil, and weaken the barrier between worlds. It leaves a path or trail that can be found by those who go deep into the Fade, and that is how I have found memories that no other living being has ever seen.” 

The way he spoke was enthralling as if every word he said commanded her sole attention, and she could not look away from him. Though his face was ageless it seemed to hold much sorrows, but in this moment speaking about the Fade lifted the shadows from his eyes. “I’ve never heard of anyone ever doing that. It sounds incredible,” whispered Echo, thoughtfully. She had always been a history buff, and always loved to visit old historical sites back on Earth. Though to be able to see memories, to actually see it as if one was there…it must be marvelous to witness such stories with one’s own eyes. Though such journeys were unlikely to ever be hers, she was unskilled when it came to traversing through the Fade. She could create dreams, but she tried to never venture outside of her comfort zones. “Though isn’t a big dangerous to fall asleep in old ruins. They are often filled with…” Echo made a face, and shuddered. “Spiders.” 

Solas chuckled. “I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live,” he said, with a quiet amusement lingering in his blue eyes. 

Echo made a noise of disbelief. “Not in my experience,” she stated, mildly. She hated spiders more than anything on all of Thedas, and she hoped she could avoid them until her last breath. “They have a personal vendetta against me.” 

Solas hummed lightly in the back of his throat, and he strolled to his books that he been placed upon Flissa’s bed since he lacked another place to put them. His long and lean fingers danced across the cover of a book upon wards, and he looked like he was in deep contemplation. “Varric spoke of you. Cassandra and Leliana inquired about who you were, and your history,” he commented, meticulously. 

Echo looked startled. Her past wasn’t a secret. It was just wasn’t talked about unless it was necessary. In the wrong hands, the implications of her waking up in that tomb would not be well received by all. “Oh. I guess, I should have expected that,” said Echo, quietly. It was a whisper that was more for herself, than Solas. Drawing a breath, she raised her gaze and placed her empty bowl off to the side. “What exactly of it?” 

Solas turned with a fluidity that she hadn’t expected he had with how rigidly he held himself, and took a couple of steps towards her. “I merely wish to hear your version of event. The tale that the storyteller spun was—” He cut off, and searched a word that would not cause offense. 

“Insane? Impossible?” Echo supplied. 

His blue eyes glanced over her face. “Improbable,” he settled, with a curious frown. 

Echo sighed. “I know. It feels like a fairy story, an impossibility even to me and I _lived_ it,” she said, with a sardonic chuckle. She didn’t want to be an ancient elf. She didn’t want it to be real, and yet she had fleeting memories. Like scattered dreams that laid just outside of her reach that compromised her resolve, but she didn’t give into the feelings those images awoke. To give into them would make them real, and if they were real it made other things that she had known about herself not real. And that would surely break her. “In the beginning, when I first awoke there and was found by Hawke…I prayed it wasn’t real, and that everything was just a nightmare I would wake up from. Over and over I wished I would wake up.” 

“And?” He prompted. 

She gave him a bittersweet smile. “I didn’t wake up.” 

A pang flooded through him. Solas understood too well that feeling. When he had awoke to this world, to find what the price of what he had done…there had been moments that he had wished the same. That it was a nightmare that he would soon awake from, but it was not a nightmare. This was the reality that he had helped create, and one that he could not escape. 

The cabin door was pulled open, and a scout stepped through. The abrupt intrusion swiftly broke the sorrow filled atmosphere of the room, and Solas turned towards them with a blank expression. “My apologizes, ser,” the scout said, meekly. “Lady Nightingale sent me to unlock the Herald’s chains, and to, uh, escort her to the Chantry doors.” 

“Very well,” Solas nodded. “Are you ready?” His eyes swept over to Echo, whose shoulders had slumped. 

She gave him a look, with an eyebrow arched and a resigned smile. “Do I really have a choice?” She retorted, lifting her chained wrists so the scout had better access. It took only a few seconds before the lyrium chains fell to the floor with a metallic thud, and Echo swayed back with a harsh breath. The rush of mana left her slightly dizzy, and she shook her head side to side. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest, and she raised her chin to look at Solas then the scout. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” 

“As you wish, Herald,” the scout said. 

Echo pulled a face at the title, and she glared at Solas when she caught his lips twitch with amusement. “Be seeing you, Mr. Apostate,” she told him, with a sniff. Oh, she would get revenge on all who found her new predicament funny. 

“I look forward to it, Herald of Andraste,” Solas said, using her new sobriquet in a subtle show of respect. Though he would be lying if the rebellious part of him buried deep underneath his wisdom and years did not like the way it immediately riled her up. 

Echo could have spit kittens at him. There was no way that she was going to let everyone go around calling her Herald. First off, she had a name. It was Echo, and she liked it because her mother named her after a greek myth. Secondly, she was no champion of the Maker and his lady. Her being called the Herald of Andraste was just bullshit. Thirdly, it sounded like Harold, and she was not a Harold. Did she look like a Harold? No, she did not. Muttering unflattering things underneath her breath about cheeky apostate and a dodgy dwarf, she followed the scout out the door. 

She didn’t get far before she came to a sudden halt. If it were for the scout’s hand on her arm, she could have backpedaled right back into her cabin. There were people! Just standing there along sides of the path, and so many of them! At first, she feared some kind of riot and even tensed preparing for the worst. Instead, a hush of reverence seemed to fall over the ground and she heard the words “Herald of Andraste”. Echo’s nostrils flared with a sharp inhale, and she looked at the crowd. Those were not faces of anger. Those were faces filled with hope. Better than angry ones, and yet still left Echo with the urge to run and hide. 

Echo was not one for the spotlight. She didn’t like being the center of attention. Some people called her shy, and perhaps when she was younger that was true. Now, she simply liked her privacy and solitude. She did her own thing, marched to the beat of her own drum and the only once affected by the choices she made was herself. While she did have a group of friends, she tended to be a bit of a loner. And if she felt self-conscious under Solas’s gaze, she felt downright like an insect under a microscope right now with the way that every single set of eyes were riveted on her form like they were waiting for her do some kind of magic trick. 

She saw Adan peek out the window of his cabin, and then hide away as soon as their eyes locked. _Traitor,_ she thought, eyes narrowed into evil slits. She turned to face the whispering ground, and a knot of anxiety welled up in her chest the size of a softball. It twisted tighter and tighter when she took one step after another into the sea of people. Many of them had their arm braced over their chest in a silent salute, and some where even on their knees. 

“…There is but one sky, one life…” 

“That’s her! The Herald of Andraste!” 

“The Maker sent us a mage in our darkest hour?” 

“She saved us! I saw her stop the Breach with…” 

Echo walked awkwardly on her feet, a hesitance to her gait. She nodded, and gave half-hearted smiles to those who greeted her with jubilance. Even unnerving this was, she didn’t want to seem rude. When she had joked about being paraded to the Chantry, she hadn’t thought it would literally happen. _God, this is a mess. It is a disaster in the making,_ she thought to herself, walking up the stone steps. They came around the path, and Echo’s heart kicked into high gear when she came into the shadow of the Chantry. 

At the front of the Chantry were a dozen Sisters and Brothers gathered on either side of the doors. Eyes filled with awe and apprehension at her approach. Echo prayed that they did not start raining down holy sermons or blessings. It was already painstakingly strange and embarrassing that she did not know how much more of this she could take. Maybe she could tell them all that there was a mix up? That it was all some huge misunderstanding? Somehow she didn’t think it would work no matter how hard she tried. Once someone believed something so fiercely, it was hard to break such a faith. 

The scout held the door open for her and let her walk through. He gave her a quick encouraging smile. “The door straight ahead,” he told her, and then ducked back out of the Chantry. 

The doors shut with an ominous sound, and Echo looked at the empty and quiet Chantry before her. She had been in here sparingly over the years. The dark grayish blue stone made the shadows seem darker no matter how many torches were lit, and sometimes, Echo could swear she heard screams echo from them. She had heard the horrific past of this place. About how a cult who had a warped belief of Andraste had killed those who tried to expose them, and even rumors of cannibalism were still whispered. She wondered if that altered her perception upon the place, or if she was just feeling the horror that had been bled deep into the structure of this place that it could not be washed away. No matter how hard the people here had tried. 

Running her fingers through her hair, she stepped forward and made her way to the door at the other end of the hall. Her footsteps echoed too loud off the walls, and she exhaled slowly through her lips while her arms came to wrap around her stomach. She had almost reached the door when someone came storming through, and slammed the door behind them. Echo froze in place, and her eyebrows shot up. 

It was Chancellor Roderick, and he did not look happy. 

“Hello, Chancellor Roderick,” Echo greeted, ill at ease. He looked a great deal better than he had upon the mountain. Less pale and shaken, but no less severe. “How are you today?” 

Chancellor Roderick faltered in step at the sight of her, and his face twisted up. He looked rather torn like he was having some internal conflict and he grumbled underneath his breath before he stalked past her. Echo stood there, looking over her shoulder at the fleeing Chantry man before she shook her head and decided it was probably for the best she did not know what that was about. Take a breath, she turned back towards the door and steeled herself for the undoubtedly chilly reception that waited inside. 

Placing her palm against the wood of the door, she released that breath and pushed it open. The room inside was dimly lit by dying torches, and a few candles that sat around a large map that covered the majority of the table. Cassandra stood, looking over it with Commander Cullen while Leliana discussed something quietly with the exotic olive skinned beauty draped in gold and ruffles on the other side of the room. In a split second, the air in the room shifted as the door creaked loudly on it’s hinges. 

Four eyes sets of swerved towards her, and the nervous smile that stretched upon her face was an automatic reaction she wasn’t able to stop. “You…um, wanted to see me?” She asked, her face too warm for comfort and she wiggled her fingers in a small wave. 

Cassandra turned towards her. “Good,” she said, her tone brusque. She didn’t have her weapons on her, but that offered little comfort. “We can begin.” 

Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline, and Echo frowned at the group. “Begin what exactly?” she asked, a apprehensive frown on her lips. 

The Seeker did not answer her question. “This is Lady Josephine Montiliyet. She is the ambassador who handles all our politics affairs, and business deals.” 

“A pleasure,” Josephine smiled. She seemed to have a warm, inviting air about her. It was no wonder she was an ambassador, given her natural charisma that flowed from her she could easily have others wrapped around her finger with only a few words. There was also a sincerity to her words that Echo had not expected, but appreciated. 

“Likewise,” Echo replied, with a small nod. 

The Seeker pressed onward. “You already know Commander Cullen from Kirkwall, yes?” Cassandra inquired, with a brow arched. 

“Yes. I mean, we didn’t exactly talk. Hawke did all the talking, and I was more…in the background,” Echo said, then she cleared her throat. “And well, we had a brief encounter in Haven, but other…” She shrugged her shoulders, and felt horribly awkward. She had prepared herself to an interrogation not an introduction. “Nice to see you again.” 

“And you as well,” Cullen inclined his head, though his voice was a bit stilted. His hand rested upon his pommel of his sword, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Echo. 

“And we’ve already had the pleasure of meeting,” Leliana spoke up, though her voice held a light and lethal tone that immediately put Echo on alert. “Please,” she gestured towards the empty wooden seat, “have a seat.” 

Echo gulped. “I feel that I should warn you ahead of time that the human body has over seven trillion nerves, and I have the unique ability to get on every single one of them,” Echo rambled, nervously. The chair placed in front of the table reminded her of her elementary school days where she and her best friend had been brought in front of the principal. Except the principal was way less scary than these people, and the worst he could do was give them detention. What the Hands of the Divine could do was significantly much worse, and half didn’t even involve death. That didn’t even take into account of what a templar could do to a mage such as herself, and Lady Josephine most likely had hidden depths that were just as dangerous as the rest of the group. 

Her announce didn’t faze any of them much, though Cullen coughed, hand rose to be placed over his mouth. Leliana didn’t even bat an eye, and Josephine looked rather bemused. Cassandra’s left brow ticked upward before she went expressionless. “Sit,” she ordered. 

“I think I’d rather stand,” Echo said, eyeing the chair warily. When the Commander take a step forward, she practically flung herself into the chair. “Or sit. Sitting is good. It’s nice. Really comfy chair.” 

There might have been a flash of amused satisfaction that lingered in Leliana’s eyes before those violet hues turned as hard as ice. The spymaster walked around the table until she stood behind Echo, in such an angle that she would be right out of the corner of the elf’s eye. “Do you know why we have asked you to come here?” She asked, a seemingly straight-forward question. 

“Other than I’m apostate with a magical mark that is connected to the Breach formed by the explosion that killed the Divine and countless others?” Echo quipped, lightly. It did not lift the mood of the room, and she swallowed her smirk. “I suppose you want some kind of explanation.” 

“That would be in your best interest,” Leliana said, her voice seemingly pleasant. Her eyes however, held a thinly veiled threat that was cutting in its intensity. “How did you obtain the mark?” She asked, without preamble. 

Echo let out a breathless laugh. It was neither happy nor joyful. Bitterly quiet was a more apt description, and she ran a hand down the side of her face. “I would love to give you the answers that you all seek, but it is impossible given that I haven’t be able to find them myself,” said Echo, a twist of her lips. She sat tense against the uncomfortable wooden chair that was a little off kilter because one of the back legs was shorter than the rest. It felt like she would fall over if she relaxed, and she was betting this chair was made like that on purpose. A psychological tactic. 

“What do you mean you have no explanation?” said Cassandra, her nostrils flared slightly. 

Echo took a measured breath. “Maybe I should start at the beginning? What happened before the explosion, and you can decide what questions to ask after that? Get us all on the same page here,” she offered, her tone benign. When no argument came, Echo laid her arms across the armrests, and her fingertips curled around the ends in order to keep herself from fidgeting. “The day was pretty much standard. Nothing too alarming except maybe the men who decided it was alright to push around Mahanon. A Dalish elf…” 

“We are aware,” Cassandra nodded. “Commander Cullen had already verified that you helped the elf, and were nowhere near the Temple when the explosion happened.” 

“Which makes the mark on your hand,” Commander Cullen stated, his brows knotted, “all that more disturbing. Solas informed us the dwarf’s proximity to the explosion is how the mark became tethered to him. You were nowhere near the explosion, and yet you have been marked as well. No one can offer us explanation, not even the apostate.” 

“I’m not sure how I got it,” Echo frowned, craning her neck to look up at him. He was an imposing figure on a regular bases, but the shadows of the room made him look as sinister and lethal as the spymaster. “I…I went to my cabin when I started to feel strange,” she continued, not elaborating on her epilepsy or her seizures. She did not want them to know about that. “Lightheaded, knots in my stomach. Like I was about to be sick when suddenly everything went painfully black. The next thing I knew was I woke up on my cabin floor, and the mark was upon my hand.” 

“That’s all that you know?” Leliana eyed her skeptically. 

“It’s all that I remember, yes,” Echo glowered up at her. 

Josephine cocked her head to the side. “Why not tell anyone about your condition? Surely you were worried what the mark was and what it could do to you,” she said, her tone gentle. 

“Of course I was, but I was an apostate,” Echo said, with a shrill laugh at the absurd suggestion. “If I offered myself to be examined by the templars, it would have discovered and it would have only made my situation much worse. Or at least, that’s what I believed.” 

“You kept silent to protect yourself?” Cassandra asked, eyes narrowed. “Then why reveal yourself on the mountain? Why help us at all?” 

“Because the Breach wasn’t going away. People were dying, and I couldn’t continue to stand by and do nothing,” said Echo, with a slight glower upon her face. “The mark seemed to be made of the same energy as the Breach, so I thought…I thought maybe somehow it could help. I hoped that it would.” 

“Edric had a mark as well,” Leliana commented, tone nonchalant. “You did not have to reveal yourself. You could have left, and allowed him to seal the Breach.” 

“And did he help? No, because Edric was an ass,” Echo said, deadpanned. “Anyone with eyes could tell he was shady from a mile away, and no, it’s not because he is a carta dwarf. He was constantly looking for escapes every step up that mountain. I wasn’t going to bet the lives of hundreds hoping that man’s better side prevailed.” 

“I’m not sure he had one,” Cullen said, distastefully. When Cassandra shot him a look, he shook his head. “He ran, Cassandra. He fled from the field, content to abandon everyone to die just to try and save himself. If you ask me, it was a blessing in disguise when the Pride Demon struck him down. If alive, I can imagine he’d make trouble for the Inquisition now. Besides, he was not our only hope.” 

Echo’s eyes widened a fraction. She certainly hadn’t expected the Commander to say that of all things, but she certainly was going to complain. It made it sound like the odds were in her favor, and if that were so then she was unlikely to be prematurely executed. “Only hope?” She repeated the phrase, quietly in a hush whisper. Her brows furrowed when something click inside of her head, and she looked up at them with a narrowed eyes look. “You want me to finish closing the Breach.” 

Cassandra sighed. “That is the plan, yes.” 

_They needed her._ Embolden by her epiphany, Echo spine straightened out and she sat a little taller in her seat. With her chin tipped upward, the majority of apprehension fled from her mismatched gaze, and the corners of her mouth softened. “When Varric told me that the Breach was still there, just tamed…I guess I should have figured you would want to make another attempt on it,” she commented, careful to keep her tone idle. She never usually wasted energy on being diplomatic or manipulative, preferring to be straight forward and not beat around the bush. Yet as she heard Varric’s words from earlier float through her mind, she mulled over what exactly the cards she had at her disposal were and which to play first. 

“The Inquisition cannot do that without your mark,” Cassandra said, with a small nod. Her tone lost the harsh edge, and the scowl lifted from her face. “As far as we know it’s the only one left in existence.” 

_The Inquisition? Doesn’t that sound lovely?_ Echo gnawed on her lower lip, a reflectively look on her face as her gaze lowered for a brief moment. When she raised them, she tapped her fingertips on the end of the armrest and wondered how they would respond to adversity. “I do have responsibilities, and obligations that cannot be left untended. What if I choose not to help you? What if I decide that I’ve had enough of that mountain, and go on my merry way?” Echo questioned, seriously. Even though she had no intention of leaving while the Breach was still a threat, Echo wanted to test their reactions to this. “Would you hold me hostage? I am after all a barely trained mage with a mark which true purpose is unknown?” 

“Barely trained?” Cullen sputtered, incredulously. It was the first time he had spoken up since the door had been closed, and he took a step closer to Echo with hand on his pommel of his sword. Not threatening like last time. This was an unconscious effort to make himself feel secure. “What do you mean _barely_ trained?” 

“It means that I don’t use my magic,” Echo said, bluntly. “I know a few healthy spells, wards but my offense magic is nonexistent.” 

“Maker’s breath, this is worse than I thought,” Cullen groused, folding his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “An untrained mage is under greater threat for possession—” 

“The Fade doesn’t bother me,” Echo interrupted, while she gave him a look. “My dreams are usually untroubled, and the demons that do try, I can see through fairly quickly.” 

Cassandra and Cullen shared a look. Cullen shifted on his feet, and rolled his neck to relieve the tension there. “And how are you able to do that?” He questioned, his tone even. 

Echo thought for a fleeting moment she saw envy on the Commander’s face, but the next moment his face was as composed as ever. “I…don’t know? The illusions they cast just always immediately feel off to me. Like a frayed end of a blanket, if you pull on it enough it will eventually fall apart. I suppose that the demons I’ve faced could have been weaker ones, but I’ve done pretty well against them so far.” 

“That…does ease some of the concern, but we have no idea if the mark will affect you. It may attract demons attention, and if so, then you need to be trained,” Cullen said, steadfastly. It was obvious he would not be moved, and was firm in this decision. 

Echo hadn’t thought about that. What if the mark attracted the more unsavory beings of the Fade? What if they were stronger than her will? An uncomfortable fear settled in her heart, and she felt a cold sweat break out along her skin. “You think that the mark could do that?” She asked, her voice very quiet. 

“You said it yourself. We don’t know it’s purpose or what it is capable of? What if you were to turn into an abomination? What damage could the mark do then?” Cullen pointed out, darkly. 

All the blood drained out of Echo’s face. An image of herself, but her skin mangled and bloated and discolored like that of an abomination rose in the back of her mind. She saw a sea of dead at her feet, and she pressed her fingers to her lips to hold back the vomit that burned in the back of her throat. She shuddered, closing her eyes to get rid of the dark vision. 

“Besides, your magic could give you an edge you will need in battle,” Leliana said, deceptively humorous tone in her voice. “And if you stay with the Inquisition, we can give you all the tools and training you need. And you will need it. If you think that mark will only attract demons, then you are sorely naïve. It is as surely as a beacon as the Breach in the sky, and not all those drawn to it will be left in awe of your new title.” 

“The Herald of Andraste,” Echo said, distastefully. Her eyes fluttered open after a heartbeat, and her face twisted into an almost comical scowl. “I’ve heard. I don’t like it.” 

Cassandra’s expression tightened. Leliana merely cocked her head to the side while Josephine wrote something down. Cullen gave a breathless chuckle. “Neither does the Chantry. You have them running about like chickens with their heads cut off because they know not what to make of you,” he informed her, with a slight smirk. 

Echo’s mind painted a delightful image of that, and she decided that she was just not right sometimes. “There outfits do make them look like chickens,” Echo said, absentmindedly. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “If you desire to leave, no one will stop you. The problem with that is that we cannot guarantee your safety if you were to leave the Inquisition,” Cassandra said, her face echoed the severity of her tone. “Indeed. While we have no doubts of your innocence, even if the circumstance by your mark are still mysterious,” Josephine added, diplomatically, “there will be those that will put the blame on your shoulders. And just because you bear the mark.” 

“Besides,” Leliana commented, airily, “after fighting so hard to attempt to close the Breach, can you in good conscious leave while it still lingers, and your mark the only way of stopping it?” 

Echo’s gaze flickered between the four of them with a light scoff and her brow slowly arched. She wondered if they practiced this entire sale’s pitch beforehand. It seemed perfectly tailored to guilt her, and she almost smirked. “Using emotional blackmail to sway me, huh? That’s rather underhanded for a sister of a Chantry,” she commented, cynically. 

The spymaster smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment though I’m sure you are that I am no mere sister of the Chantry,” said Leliana, lightly. 

“Is that your way of asking if I know you are a spymaster? Yes, I do. Your reputation proceeds you,” was Echo’s reply. She remembers Kirkwall at that time, and the tension that was quickly bubbling to the surface. Sister Leliana had come to Kirkwall only a month before Echo had fled the Free Marches, and it had been like the calm before the storm. The normally Hawke headstrong, and undaunted by anything had expressed concern about the Nightgale’s warning for the Reverend Mother had meant. No one could have guessed that the threat that would seal the predication of ill would have come one of their own. 

Echo could barely believe it now. She remembered her heart dropping when the rumors had reached the Crossroads where she had been staying at the time, and her first thought had been, _Not Anders._

Echo pulled her mind from the sad thoughts that she had fallen into, and looked back at the Left Hand of the Divine. “You know there is a myth that every time you smile that someone dies,” she commented, with an anxious laugh. 

“Who says it’s a myth?” Leliana smiled, a little too self-satisfied. 

“Ah…” Echo made the awkward noise, torn between fear and appreciation. Rubbing the hairs on the back of her neck that stood on end, her shoulders slumped. “While I wasn’t ever going to leave,” she said, knowing it needed to be said outloud, “I’m afraid I’m going to need some more clarifications on things.” 

“And what kind of clarification is it that you seek?” Cullen asked, folding his arms over his chest. A wary look entered his amber eyes, and his lips drawn into a tense line. 

“Oh, would you calm down? I’m not planning anything sinister,” Echo snorted, scratching absentmindedly her neck. Her lips twitched, but she smothered the smile. With a weighty breath, her countenance became very solemn. “You are right. I will need the Inquisition, and the Inquisition needs me. But what is exactly is the Inquisition? No one has elaborated on that yet.” 

“The Inquisition was formed many years ago. It was used to help create order when the world fell to chaos. Divine Justinia knew that such chaos would happen again, and gave us the authority to act,” Cassandra explained, and placed her hand upon a thick tome. Upon the front of it was the same strange symbol of an eye much like the one upon the Seeker’s armor. “It allows us to resurrect the Inquisition, despite the Chantry’s disputes and do what needs to be done to put an end to this madness. The Breach, and the Templar-Mage war.” 

Echo frowned. “From what I know about Inquisitions, they are usually witch hunts masquerading as holy wars. I’m trusting that this is not the case here,” she said, cautiously. 

“It is not,” Leliana replied. 

“Alright,” Echo nodded, her jaw worked up and down. Restoring order was a noble endeavor, and was one sorely that needed to be done. Yet she wondered if they realized that returning to the status quo before the Mage Rebellion would be impossible. “What exactly are the terms of this arrangement? How will this work?” 

“You will help spread the Inquisitions influence,” explained Josephine, reasonably. She smoothed a strand of hair that was out of place from all her running about, and then put her quill to parchment. The candle’s flame danced as the board swayed with the motions of her writing. “There are also rifts that need to be sealed.” 

“Rifts?” Echo asked. Her fingertips brushed the scar along her eyebrow, almost as if she could not help herself. The encounter with the last rift was still fresh in her mind, and she dropped her hand down as if burned when she realized what she was doing. “There are more?” 

“The explosion caused them to open all over Thedas, and sadly even though the Breach sleep, they do not,” Cassandra said, wearily. “Demons spew out of them, and drive people from their homes.” 

“Which leaves them in the crossfire of the mages and templars who war with each other with renewed vigor,” said Josephine, a troubled look on her face. “They turn blame for the Conclave on one another, and use it as another reason to commit more atrocities. The Banns and nobles have their soldiers doing all that they can to marginalize the devastation, but they can do only so much. As for the Hinterlands, they are bearing the brunt of this war I’m afraid.” 

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest. She though of her friends in the Hinterlands, and wondered of their fates. Were they alright? Were they dead? Questions that were unlikely to be answered any time soon. Echo pursed her lips to the side, and ran a hand along her jaw. “So I’m a figurehead?” Echo asked, quietly. “The face for your Inquisition?” 

“You will also have a hand in making the decisions as the Inquisition moves forward,” Cassandra stated, firmly. 

Astonishment fluttered across Echo’s face, and for a moment, she forgotten how to speak. She blinked bewildered at Cassandra as if she were not like anyone that she had ever met. “Are you sure that’s wise? Wouldn’t that just add fuel to the fire? And you know there is going to be one with the rumors of me being the Bride of the Maker’s herald,” she said, once she regained use of her tongue. 

“The Inquisition was always going to be a problem for the Chantry,” Cullen commented, with a droll grin on his lips. “We just become more of a threat with you working along side of us. I imagine the Chantry will find the idea quite unsettling.” 

Echo smiled. “Yes, I would say so,” she said, softly. For all her bravo, the reality of her situation was coming down hard onto her shoulders. She was an elf that was supposed the Herald of the beloved Andraste, and that was sure to piss a few people off. It painted a big red bull’s eye on her back, and the consequences would be far reaching. Even she knew that. 

As much as she hated it, they did have a valid argument. The Inquisition was her best bet for survival in the world that was on the edge of destruction, and a part of her crumbled when she realized that even after the Breach was sealed, she would likely not be able to take her leave of the fledging organization. Her life had irrevocably been changed, and there was no going back. “Is there any chance that the whole Herald of Andraste thing can be stop?” She asked, not daring to even hope. 

Leliana gave her an almost pitying look, while Cullen looked away almost awkwardly. Cassandra heaved a deep breath, and shook her head. “I fear that we cannot. This rumor took on a life of it’s own far greater than we anticipated,” 

“And you did nothing to quell them?” Echo inquired. 

“We did not,” Cassandra admitted, reluctantly. 

“Oh,” was Echo’s response. 

* * *

Echo finally left the Chantry after promises to meet with Josephine and Cassandra to iron out the details of her training and what else would be required of her. The afternoon sky bloomed against the horizon in waves of amber and amethyst, and Echo walked through the village with her arms crossed over her chest. No one approached her, thankfully. If she hid her hand perhaps they would think her no more than any other elf. 

“Maker’s blessings, Herald.” 

Echo could have cried. Of course, it had been too much to hope for. With a sigh, she passed Flissa with a half hearted wave. Her friend didn’t seemed to know what to do, and it made Echo’s stomach clench uneasily. She walked out the main front gates, and wondered if Leliana’s people were keeping an eye out on her just in case she decided to make a break for it. It was quiet out here, because most of the soldiers were at the tavern or already in their tents. 

She passed the training area, and walked over to the edge of the lake before she plopped down. Her legs daggled off the side, and the toes of her boots barely touched the ice. The air was cold during the air, but when the night came it was artic. The wind beat against her face, and her clothes without remorse, and yet for some reason she could barely feel it at all. She sat out there forever, and hoped that the disquiet in her heart would somehow fade into the silence. 

They did not. Instead, the silence seemed to make the grow louder until the point that Echo found each breath painstaking, and her mind seemed to race through a million thoughts a second. Her face showed none of her inner turmoil. It was carefully composed like the painted face of a china doll, and it was just as fragile. A shadow fell beside her, and she didn’t have to turn to know that it was Varric. 

“So…you’re still in one piece,” Varric commented, with a blasé tone that hide his true concern. “That’s always a good thing. How did everything go? I don’t see any bruises, so I’m assuming the Seeker didn’t rough you up.” 

“Nope. Just a lovely chat between the four of them and me,” Echo said, her voice too high an octave to be normal. Her fingers dug into the snow of the ground, and the chill sent pain bone deep into her hands. She didn’t even flinch. 

Varric turned towards her slightly, his arms rested over his chest and Bianca was strapped to his back. He looked like he had really been prepared to fight to help Echo if it came down to it. “Four of them?” He asked, confused. “Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine. They told me—each in their own way—it would be in my best interest to join the Inquisition. Protection from angry masses that won’t take kind to my mark and new title,” Echo spoke, her voice completely drained of every drop of emotion. Her knees had been drawn up to her chest, and . “And I go around championing their cause, and closing rifts to save the day. Hip, hip, hoorah.” 

Varric’s jaw hit the ground. “Damn,” he breathed out. He couldn’t be more stunned if he tried. “When Cassandra said she needed to speak with you, I thought it’d be about another attempt on the Breach.” 

“There was talk of that, too,” Echo nodded, faintly. She stared at the stars that hung like diamonds against the indigo painted sky. Her skin had been numbed by the cold air, and it didn’t bother as much as it first had when she came to sit on the snowy hill. It was almost pleasant now. 

“Andraste’s sacred knickers…you went from being a random trader to helping lead the army of the most faithful,” Varric shook his head. He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe it, and gave a huff of laughter. “Most people would have spread that out more than a day, Mockingbird.” 

And just like that the weight of it all—what had happened on the mountain, being named the Herald of Andraste, to having signed her life away to the Inquisition—hit her shoulders so hard that she felt like she was going to break underneath it. “I’m not sure I can do this, Varric,” Echo whispered out, her lips trembled. The scenery cast light blue by the night sky blurred as tears welled up in her eyes not matter how hard she fought them back. “I’m not the hero type. I can barely lead myself let alone anyone else. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I should do. I can’t do this.” 

Varric looked taken back by her sudden burst of emotion, and stepped forward when she bowed her head. “Hey, don’t get all weepy eyed on me, Mockingbird,” he told her, only half teasing. “You know I’m shit when it comes to crying women.” 

Echo really tried not to let the tears leak out. She craned her head, her cheek pressed against her shoulder and her watery gaze found Varric’s. “Varric, I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice shaking. A couple of scalding hot tears rolled down her cheek. 

“Of course, you are,” Varric said, in a tone that implied she wasn’t. “I’ve written enough tragedies to know where stories like this one usually lead, but you aren’t the only one afraid here. We all are.” Varric stepped forward, and put a hand on her shoulder. “And you aren’t alone though it probably feels like it. You have Bianca and me guarding your back. Solas is sticking around to help, too. And Cassandra isn’t about to leave all the burden on this on you. Curly, Ruffles, and the spymaster are also invested in this. Not to mention the army they are gathering.” 

It didn’t make Echo’s fears go away. They were still there, but as she thought heavily upon Varric’s words, the mind numbing panic faded away until exhaustion took it’s place. Was the mark a heavier burden than she first expected? Yes, but she was not alone in bearing it. She didn’t have to face rifts alone. She didn’t have to work to spread the Inquisition alone. She was a single cog in a machine. Perhaps a little bigger or more important than the rest, but still a cog that could not turn without other parts. She wasn’t alone. She would not have to face all this alone. Her breaths evened out, and soon the tears abated enough that they were not falling from her eyes. 

“You’re right,” she said, her voice still had a slight hitch and she placed her hands the sides of her face. She held them there for a moment as if to center herself in the whirlwind of emotions warring inside of her, and she let out a broken sigh. “You’re right. God, I can’t believe I let myself break down like this.” 

“I think after the last few days, you’re entitle to a breakdown or two,” Varric smiled. “I’d actually be more worried if you didn’t breakdown, to be perfectly honest.” 

Echo laughed underneath her breath, and stood up from where she sat in the snow. Brushing off the snow that hadn’t melted on her, she and Varric started walking back towards the town. When they reached the gates, she looked at him with a sad look in her red rimmed eyes. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

Varric smiled, thinly. “It was bad before we got here,” he told her, as they passed through the gates. Haven was eerily silent as only a few stranglers remained awake, save for the guards on duty. “But at least, things can’t get worse.” 

“I don’t think there are many things that can be worse than a hole in the sky, Varric,” Echo said, with a hint of amusement. 

“You’d think so,” Varric nodded. “And yet the world has funny ways of surprising you. Let’s hope that isn’t the case this time around.” 

A wolf’s howl cut through the night, and sent a shiver down Echo’s spine. The sound reverberated across the snowy mountain, and she looked up the Breach that sat as a watcher in the sky, spinning on and on. She parted ways with Varric at the tavern, and headed towards her cabin. She had reached the door when she noticed Solas standing outside of the house adjacent from her own. He had been heading inside himself, and paused to incline his head at her in a passing greeting. 

Her pulse fluttered at the base of her neck as she drew up short at the sight of him. That strange familiarity struck her again, and she stared at Solas longer than what was considered polite. Her eyes darted across his face, from his too blue eyes down his chiseled cheekbones and from his lips to the cleft in his chin. It was like a memory stirring like a forgotten word upon the tip of her tongue, and for the life of her she did not know what to do to recall it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded back at him and even murmured “good night” before she ducked inside of her cabin. 

She shut the door behind her, and leaned her forehead against the wood. She could feel each indention in the wood against her skin and she stood there like that for so that her legs had started to ache. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing,” she whispered, to herself and pulled herself away from the door. The lyrium chains had been removed entirely from the cabin, and Echo crawled into her bed. 

Her head hit the pillow, and she was almost ready to surrender to sleep when she heard Flissa sigh softly from the other side of the cabin. “Echo…” Flissa whispered. 

Echo closed her eyes. “Yeah?” 

For a moment, the only thing that could be heard was the wind from outside and the slight rattle of the glass from the window from the force of it. “Things are really going to change, aren’t they?” Flissa finally asked, quietly. “I mean, it’s changed before, but not like it will now. This time…nothing is ever going to be the same, is it?” 

Echo reopened her eyes that glowed in the dark like elf eyes do, and saw Flissa sitting up on her bed with her legs drawn up to her chest. The blankets were wrinkled as if she had been tossing and turning restlessly. “Things were already starting to change, Flissa,” Echo answered, all too well understanding her friend’s fear. “We were just amongst the last to find out.” 

There was nothing said after that, and Echo fell into a restless dream. She rolled in her bed, her hands moved in the air as if she were trying to catch the bits of dreams that raced through her mind too fast for her to make out. _There was a swing set, and merry-go-round. A girl with wide blue eyes and thousand watt smile. “Come on, Echo! Hurry we don’t want to be late!” The girl laughed, and took her by the hand._

_Nine year old Echo giggled. “We aren’t going to be late, As—” The name was cut off when the dream melted into a different scene. “Echo! Echo!” A female voice screamed, but it sounded faint. Distant as if she had her head underneath water, and she spun around to see a body lying upon a steel table, and a pendulum swinging back and forth. A thunderous rumbled across the green swirling sky, and Echo flinched back as lightning rippled all around her._

_“Ravens, death, and pendulums. Reminders that time is always running out,” the voice of the Chesire Cat from her last dream seemed to come out of the growing shadows. “Can you find Alice before it‘s off with her head?”_

_She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move as the pendulum swung closer to the body on the hospital like bed, and she could barely make out the woman’s face. It was familiar face. Echo knew that face, but her mouth seemed incapable of speaking the name. When she finally managed to take a step forward, the ground crumbled out from underneath her. She fell and fell until she was suddenly deep underneath the water._

_She was in her car. Trapped. Dying. Voices whispered all around her as demons gathered against the glass, offering her a way out. Their skeleton face and glowing eyes seemed to vibrate with anticipation until the frantic female voice from earlier cut through the dream, “Echo? Echo!” Hands touched her face, and there was a flash of light…_ And Echo awoke with a harsh breath to the light of a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm having trouble with my computer and connecting to the internet, but I will update as much as I can. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> EXPLANATION AND TIMELINE
> 
>  
> 
> 9:36 Dragon: Echo wakes up (or arrives) in Thedas. She is found by Hawke, and taken in by him when the Dalish turns her away.  
> 9:38 Leliana warns the Revered Mother of Kirkwall’s Chantry of the threat, and encounters Hawke. Hawke later reveals this encounter to Echo.  
> 9:39 Dragon: After the incident with the somniari in the alienage, Echo leaves in the middle of the night to protect Hawke and co. from Meredith's scrutiny.  
> 9:39 Dragon: After six months, Echo arrives in Ferelden safely. Back with in Kirkwall, Hawke helped put a stop to the Kirkwall Rebellion.  
> 9:41 Dragon: The Conclave that was meant to make peace, ends in death and tragedy. The Breach threatens to swallow the world, and Echo ends up with a mark to stop it.
> 
> 1.) Solas is battling with himself right now. He sees Echo, it causes him doubts, but he is determined with his path. He is a complicated elf. He has a multifaceted character that we at first do not fully see. To most his this humble apostate here to help with his vast knowledge, and to others he is condescending and arrogant believing them lesser though he does not say it outright. Both sides are completely true. I do believe it at some point crossed his mind to kill the person who bore the mark. To try and take his power back if he could. It was not a good option, but still one he would have considered. Also, Fen’Harel was not a hero no matter how noble his intentions. If the Elvhen Gods were as ruthless and power mongering as he claims, to strike fear in them Fen’Harel had to turn himself into a monster to be feared by them. This implies that he has a darker side, even if he saved slaves and freed them and I wanted to show some of that in this chapter. It will be brought up at a later date.  
> 2.) This is a slow burn. Just because Solas’s libido is standing attention and acknowledging there is an attraction to Echo doesn’t mean he’ll be head over heels for her in the next chapter. Attraction doesn’t mean love, and these two have many stepping stones before they can even think of being together. :D  
> 3.) Is the last of Echo’s freak outs about being the Herald of Andraste? Hell no. She is still pretty much freaked out, but she has to cope whether she likes it or not. The magnitude of the symbol she has become hasn’t fully hit her, but she understands that the life she has fought to make here has irrevocably changed.


	8. Feats of Clay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! Thank you Happy_Mello, RevEins, RJBell, nausicaa, razgaz, riofveros, Ashleykicks, Miyaruu, DearZelly, Olemonka, DemeterAnna, PixelPrincess, Gygapudding, Lokodmaant, Icefrog, Iizzard, LeMoNisa, RitaML, maireh, Princess_Firefly, Chitsukii, 13_Ravens, melgonzo, Jisa, Lady63077, WhiteInkPenpal, nyaneki, Sehlib, UsakoAuditore, AnieActuality, DarkAngelDisuke, thetinymouse, akharding91, bakaprincess85, poetikat, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, iamniceperson, Hexilian, catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Boraluven, chain0425 and JohskatheWise and 71 guests left kudos on my story! You all are so awesome! :D  
> Thanks you, Happy_Mello, Cloudyfish, Keylan, RJBell, Razgaz, Ashleykicks, PurplePixie, BloodOrchid, Guardania_Of_Chrona, AnieActuality, kbrock1, NikaraNox, nerdlordsupreme, Secret spoils of Thedas, figmentz, Modifier_x, Hexilian, Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel for bookmarking this story. You all are amazing, and wonderful.  
> I want to thank WhiteInkPenpal and Miyaruu for the reviews! Also I want to thank everyone for the comments in the last chapter, too. I forgot. :D

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT 

“Feats of Clay” 

* * *

Echo laid in bed with her unblinking gaze up at the dark ceiling. Everything laid in silence and shadows as she spent every minute trying to untangle the web of emotions that pounded through her blood. All the hair on the nape of her neck had been drawn to attention, and every nerve ending attached to her skin seemed to crawl with anxiety. Her mind tried to replay the nightmare, and tell herself it did not matter. It had been first nightmare is a long time, so it didn’t mean Cullen had been right about the mark drawing attention. Exhaustion claimed her for briefest of times, and it was only a half an hour sleep before the sound of Flissa heading out the door to beat the morning rush awoke her. Face down against her pillow, Echo sank tiredly against the mattress. There was nothing more than she would like to just stay here, and hide away from all her troubles. Sadly, she knew that the world would not wait on her, no matter how divinely people believed her to be. 

The sky began to lighten to a soft shade of baby blue, and Echo knew it was only an hour before dawn fell over the horizon to single the start of a new day. Tossing the blanket aside, Echo wearily rose from the bed. She stumbled, almost drunkenly to the dresser. She pulled off her white tunic, and breast band before she hunted for fresh clothes. Her brows were pinched together as she secured the new breast band around her chest, and idly wondered if she drew up a schematic of a bra if Varric could market it. It would surely be a hit in Orlais. 

She picked a blue worn tunic, and pulled it on over her head. She striped off her leggings with more force than necessary, and changed into black ones before she put on her boots. Grabbing her red cloak, she pulled it around herself tightly and lifted the fur around the collar to obscure her face before she left the cabin. As soon as she stepped outside she spotted a scout out of the corner of her eye, who was knelt down on the ground as if he were inspecting the snow. 

_Really?_ Echo thought, with an arched brow. Surely the scout could have come up with a better way to look occupied, and less like he had been caught keeping an eye on her cabin. With a light snort, she raised her gaze and looked at Solas’s cabin. The apostate had mentioned his dreams, and if he such control over his dreams must mean he knew how to ward himself greatly from the darker beings of the Fade. She had planned to go to him about training her with her magic anyways, but part of her had hoped he would already be up. With the feeling of dread hanging over her now, there was a part of her that wanted to confide in the apostate in hopes of dispelling it. 

She walked down the stairs, and gnawed on her lower lip. Maybe she could tell someone about her dream? Varric? He would be the safest choice. If she told the “War Council”—as they had dubbed themselves—it would just be validation for Cullen’s fears, and she did not wish to be treated like a walking bomb. No matter how much she feared the demons of the Fade as greatly as they did. She managed to get to tavern before someone called her “Herald” so she would count that as a success. Even if a stillness fell over the place as soon as she stepped across the threshold. Rolling her shoulders uncomfortably, her eyes searched the room until they fell on Varric who sat in the back corner. “Thank God,” she whispered, under her breath and made her way over to the dwarf. 

“You look like shit,” Varric told her as soon as she sat down across from him. 

“Thank you, Varric,” Echo said, dryly. “You know how to boost a woman’s self-esteem.” 

“I do what I can,” Varric said, with a shrug of his shoulder. “More dreams again?” 

Echo inhaled, sharply. “Yeah, really bad ones,” she said, a heavy frown on her face. She could still feel the water filling up her lungs, and feeling like death was just any second from claiming her. She gave the server that passed her order, before she ran her thumb over a knot in the wood on the table top. Dark circles sat beneath her eyes, and her brow was furrowed. Her first instinct was to tell Varric, but something held her tongue. Instead, she swallowed down the instinct, and sighed. “By the way, do you know where my armor and weapons have gone? With everything that happened yesterday I had forgotten to ask,” she inquired, feeling rather uncomfortable without it. If she had her armor, she’d feel more secure with all the stares that were pinned on her back. 

“Harritt has them. Your armor took quite the beating, and needed some repairs,” Varric informed her, then took a healthy drink of his morning ale. “Harritt refused to let anyone else handle it.” 

“Oh. I suppose I’ll go talk to him after I speak to the Cassandra and Josephine at the Chantry,” Echo mumbled, rolling the muscles of her neck against her palm. The lack of sleep had her so tense, and she could feel the beginning of a headache at the base of her skull. 

“Well, good luck with that,” Varric said, with a light grimace. “I try to actively avoid being stuck in a room with Cassandra.” 

“Please,” Echo gave him a deadpanned look. “You enjoy pushing her buttons, and getting her riled up. It’s like a game to you.” 

Varric seemed slightly surprised. “You’re good,” he told her, with a half grin. “I’m not saying you’re right, but you’re good. Much better at reading people than you were at Kirkwall.” 

“Is that a compliment?” Echo asked. 

“Might be,” Varric replied, smoothly. “So…what’s the first order of business for you and the Inquisition? Other than finding a way to plug the hole in the sky?” 

“The Hinterlands, I suppose. It’s the epicenter of the templar-mage fighting,” Echo commented, with a nod of thanks when the server brought her the food and drink. “Leliana said something about a possible ally that might be found there, but she was waiting on more information from her scouts. It’s been…slow progress with all the battling happening.” 

“Sounds like you might need a roguish dwarf to help you out, and what do you know? I have great deal of spare time on my hands,” Varric told her, his hand folded upon the surface of the table. 

Echo chuckled. “Is that your way of saying you want to come along to make sure I don’t end up dead?” 

“Well, with your track record can you really blame me?” The dwarf retorted, with a haughty look on his face. “Seriously, though, don’t fight me on this, Mockingbird. You might have people flocking to stand at your back, but you need someone firmly in your corner here. It only takes a handful of words spoken to the right ear to turn this whole Herald of Andraste imagine sour.” 

She ran her fingers down the length of her face before she propped her elbow on the table, and placed her chin in the palm of her hand. “I wasn’t going to fight you. It is so ridiculous how woefully out of my depths I am with this whole…magic mark and Inquisition. I have a feeling last nights freak out is just the first of many to come, so I’m going to need all the help I can get,” she said, with a quirky smile. 

“At least you’re self aware enough to realize the pile of batshit crazy you’ve landed yourself into. That’s better than Hawke,” Varric grinned, and then his eyes flickered up to something past Echo’s shoulder. “Chuckles, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think you’d step foot in the tavern. I believe I just lost some money on that.” 

Echo craned her head to peer over her shoulder to see the apostate standing just mere inches behind her. A crease formed between her brows, and she wondered how he managed to sneak up on her. She should have sensed someone standing that close to her. 

A fleeting smile crossed Solas’s lips. “Then I apologize for disappointing you, Master Tethras,” he stated, his eyebrows raised. His blue gaze took in the entire room, and seemed to take all of it in within seconds as if he were cataloging and calculating every last detail. There was a detachment in his expression, and a wrinkle formed in the center of his brow. 

“Not disappointed. Merely surprised. Why don’t you take a load off, Chuckles? The more the merrier,” the dwarf said, using the toe of his boot to kick out the chair next to Echo. 

Solas looked back towards them and he hummed, underneath his breath before he took the seat. He folded his hands upon the surface of the table while he tilted his head, and his eyes flickered across Echo’s face. “I’m pleased that you appear to be doing well,” Solas commented, the left side of his mouth curled upward slightly. “Though perhaps a bit fatigued?” 

“A bit,” Echo said, quietly. There was still an ache and sluggishness that she couldn‘t shake. Her overworked muscles and limbs were paying for her recklessness on top of the mountain, and her fingers massaged the back of her neck where she felt a tension migraine start to build. 

Solas nodded, not surprised. “It is to be expected given all that your body has went through. It was no easy task to close the Breach, even more so given your wounds,” the apostate informed her, his tone very matter-of-fact. “The lethargy will likely linger for several more days. I would suggest that you do not do anything to overstrain yourself, or you risk prolonging your recovery.” 

Echo gave a small groan, brushing her hair out of her face and dropping her arms onto the table. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll have much of a choice on that,” she said in a quiet voice. There was a pensive furrow to her brow as she lifted her gaze to look around the bar. While morale had improved with the quietness of the Breach, the impact of what was loss started to hit. An elven woman sat in the corner sobbing, holding something clutched to her chest while two soldiers spoke to her quietly. One put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, trying to be comfortingly. “Everyone working together without much complaint. A great change from what it was before the Conclave.” 

“In the wake of devastation, social barriers evaporate uniting even the most unlikely of people. The bonds of shared grief have tied them regardless of their origins, but not all bond hold tight. The longer the sky remains silent, the immediate fear will abate and everyone will clamor for the end of chaos. The walls that have divided the races will be one of the first things that will be rebuilt unless given something else to focus on. Given a reason to continue to work together, and strengthen this unity,” Solas vocalized, his tone carefully light. His gimlet-eyed gaze bore into the side of Echo’s face, and his right eyebrow lifted upward just a tick. “Who is responsible for the attack upon the Conclave? Did the mages have anything to do with it? The templars? They will look to the Inquisition—not the Chantry—for answers as well as purpose in this dark time. The Chantry fear this, and in addition fear you.” 

“Because I’m so fearsome,” Echo said, sarcastically. 

“An elven apostate being renowned as the Herald of Andraste? More fearsome than you might think,” Solas commented, the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

_That’s why Varric calls him Chuckles,_ Echo realized, with a faint surprise. Solas was reserved, and rarely did a smile filter across his lips. However, if one knew where to look they would see the apostate’s real smile was found in his eyes; the way a little glint entered those blue eyes, and the slight creases around the edges. 

Varric smirked. “And you can be fearsome when you want to be, Mockingbird,” said the rogue, knowingly. He had pulled out his Wicked Grace cards, and had started to shuffle them. “Or have you forgotten about those slavers back in Kirkwall?” 

Something dark flashed across Echo’s face, and a white hot anger stabbed her gut. Her languid posture immediately tensed, and she drew in a sharp breath. “Those were slavers, Varric,” she commented, delicately. It had been a night out of the town with Isabella. Not that she had wanted to, but who could say no to Isabella? The pirate had been dying to steal her out of the Amell mansion since she had arrived three months earlier, but Hawke had protested. When Hawke left on a trip to Sundermount and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days, Isabella had seized upon the chance to drag her along to bug Fenris. After the broody elf learned of Isabella’s plan felt obligated to go along to help protect Echo since Hawke was not around. The night of drinking and debauchery that Isabella had quickly turned into a rescue mission when they found a man trying to sell two kids to a man. One had been a young female elf of ten, and the other a human boy of seven. 

It was the first time that Echo had seen someone murdered in front of her. It was also the first time she had taken a life herself. Fenris hadn’t wasted a second before he ripped the slaver’s heart out of his chest, and Isabella had buried her daggers into the buyers back. She’ll never forget how the children had rushed to her, clinging to her like a lifeline. The way they had shook and cried in her arms was something she’d never forget. Yet that was not the worst of it. 

Isabella had questioned the two with a surprising gentleness, and the two children shakily told them that they had been brought here on a ship. There were at least fifty or more others still waiting to be sold. Isabella had charmed the barkeep into allowing the children to stay in Varric’s room at the Hanged Man because only a fool would go in there without invitations. Echo in hindsight wished she had stayed there with the children, but for some foolish reason she had followed the two. 

After they left the saloon, Fenris had been obstinate that they did not have enough time to get Aveline. That they would have to head off this threat themselves. They had made their way to the docks in the cover of night, and they had found the people being held at a warehouse. A few were dead under the guard’s ‘treatment’, and Echo had vomited. Fenris told her to stay put while he and Isabella dispatched with the guards. 

Then Echo had to try and be a hero. She saw a chance to get unlock the cells while they were busy fighting. Varric had been teaching her to pick locks, while Hawke was not around. Darting forward as quietly as she could, she started to pick the lock when a shadow fell over her. It happened so fast. Being picked up by the neck by a giant hand, and thrown. In seconds it had turned into a fight to survive where Echo was punched and kicked, but somehow she managed to grab a rusty spade that sat on top of a nearby barrel, and drove it straight into the slaver’s gut. 

There was so much blood. Crimson. Bright red. Pouring like a waterfall from the man’s stomach, and the gurgled grunt he gave before he fell back was burned in her mind. She stood there in front of the cells covered in a dead man’s blood, with the spade in hand with her magic crackling all around her. She had felt something inside of her chest crack in that moment. Perhaps a loss of innocence in a sense. Anyways, it was apparently a terrifying sight, and it sent a couple of slavers running. 

It had the first time Echo had seen the ugliness of Kirkwall head on, and a night that haunted her even to this day. The night ended with returning to the mansion hugging a bucket and dry heaving over it while Hawke rubbed circles on her back while going back and forth between lecturing her to whispering words of comfort. 

“I shouldn’t have even been there,” Echo told him, with a sharp wave of her hand. “Fenris and Isabella took care of most of them. I just killed one.” 

“You scared a few off,” Varric countered. 

“Only because I looked like an insane mage and was covered in blood,” Echo said, with a deep frown. She remembered scrubbing the blood out of her hair for wait seemed like forever, and her skin had been raw by the time she had been done with it. It wasn’t her favorite memory for obvious reasons. “Besides, slavers aren’t exactly the brave sort. Anyone that bullies, and steals, and sells children and defenseless people are cowards of the highest order.” 

“Indeed,” Solas agreed, with a frown. His silvery blue eyes seemed to flare slightly, but it must have been a trick of light. “To enslave another being—to steal the entirety of their will—is abhorrent, and yet even though the practice is outlawed in Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches, slavers thrives like an unwanted weed. It chokes the plants around it, and no one takes the time to tear it out.” 

“Taking down slavers is a hard thing to do, Chuckles,” Varric said, with a shake of his head. He reached up, and scratched the bridge of his nose. “Where you take down one there are a hundred move to take their place. As long as there is something willing to buy, there is always going to be someone to get the merchandise by any means necessary. The fact that they are selling people probably doesn’t matter to slavers.” 

“It doesn’t help that Tevinter would fall apart without slavery. It’s engrained to the very foundation of their society,” Echo said, grimly. Slavery left a bad taste in her mouth, and while she didn‘t believe death was always the answers…slavers were one of the many exception to that. “And it doesn’t seem like that is something will change any time soon.” 

“Ah,” Varric’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, and his eyes were pinned on Seggrit whom had just came into the tavern. “As much as I hate to run out in the midst of such enthralling conversation, but I have a settle to score with our dear merchant friend over there. He’s been avoiding me, so I feel it’s only to fair corner him when he’s unprepared.” 

Varric left the table with an extra smarmy grin, and Echo watched the wide eyed look on Seggrit’s face when he turned to find the dwarf right behind him. It was priceless, and Echo hide a laugh behind her hand. She pulled her drink close to and was prepared to take a sip when the hair on the back of her neck rose upward. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Solas looking straight at her, unblinkingly. 

“What are you staring at?” Echo finally asked. It wasn’t the first time she had caught Solas staring at her, and his gaze weighed more heavily on her than anyone else’s. The look he regarded her with was different than the awe stricken ones of those who believed her to be divinely sent to protect them. It made her feel too open, and exposed in ways she had never been before. That’s what unnerved her more than anything else about him. 

Solas blinked, a soft inhale of breath as she had broken his train of thought and brought him out of some kind reverie. “Ah, my apologies. I was merely deep in thought,” he explained, his head dipped forward slightly. 

“Do you often fall deep into thought with eyes on me?” Echo said, her eyebrow delicately arched. 

“It unnerves you,” Solas realized. 

“I feel like some caged bird on display.” 

“You are. You intrigue me,” Solas admitted, after a pause. There was something about her that made him want to look again, and the strangeness of it commanded his thoughts. It was more than just a longing for kinship with one of the last true elvhen. There was an uniqueness to her spirit that seemed to inspire great loyalty from the people she had befriended. A subtle strength in which she held herself, and a fragileness that was hidden in the depths of those different colored eyes. “There will be many trials ahead of you, and such tribulations fundamentally change a person. Not always for the better. I wonder how they will change you.” 

Echo’s eyes shuttered. They became very watchful. “You believe that I’ll change?” She asked, genuinely bemused by the statement. 

“It is not a belief. It is a fact,” Solas stated, sounding certain in his conviction. “Even the greatest of people can be brought low, and kings can easily become martyrs…or tyrants.” 

“Ah,” Echo said, slightly amused. “So I’m a tyrant now?” 

“Forgive my wording, that is not what I meant,” Solas shook his head. His was entirely focused on her, and kept his voice low. Careful of the ever listening ears. He could have easily crafted a spell to give their words proper privacy, but he would not risk it. Echo was sensitive to the magic in the air from what he observed, and casting it might put even more ill at ease than she already was which would undermine his efforts entirely. “You must see where this can easily lead. Power often corrupts all that it touches, and even the most virtuous souls have fallen into its snare. There will be those that come to you because they believe in you, others that will come because they hate you, and even the indifferent will find their way to you. Each and all have the influence to change you, and who you will become.” 

“So what you are saying…is power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely?” Echo said, a little uneasy. She hadn’t thought of that aspect of things, but she should have. She was history freak, so it should have crossed her mind because how many people who came into power hadn’t often times be revered as heroes in one moment, and mad tyrants in the next? 

“Yes,” Solas nodded. “A fine way of putting it.” 

“But…I don’t want the power,” Echo said, her voice quiet. “I certainly didn’t expect, and I’m not with the Inquisition to further myself as this grand Herald of Andraste. I did it because…I don’t have anywhere else other than Haven, and this mark…” She glanced down at the hand. The mark seemed to just underneath the top layer her skin, glowing and energy from it crackled every so often. “You are right about one thing. It’s going to bring people to me, and…” 

She abruptly stopped talking, and pursed her lips together in a thin line. She didn’t finish her thought. Instead, she cast her eyes downward into her tankard, and pursed her lips. “It’s nothing,” she whispered. “Just my mind is all.” 

“A burden shared a burden halved,” Solas said, in his all too reasonable tone. “I have ears that are willing to listen to your worries, da’len, if you wish to voice them.” 

She looked up at him, and doubted he would understand. He was a man that seemed completely in control, so he wouldn’t understand the loss of it. “When I think of everything that I know, and everything that I will have to do…I get an awful feeling. Like I’m being held down, and at the same time something is clawing to get out. Anxious. Panicky.” 

It was close to the truth. The Inquisition, the mark all made her feel like she was in a tailspin with no sign of stopping. The worst part of it all was there was this feeling in the pit of her stomach like a sense of impending doom, and no matter how hard she tried she could figure out where or when it was coming for her. 

“Control is a cruel and fickle thing. We all grapple with it in different ways,” Solas commented, knowing the battle for control all too well. In his youth, he had been wild and abandon with his actions and choices. It was through tragedies that he had hardened, and learned the value of self-control. That did not mean he still did not fight with it on occasion. “Some people are content to give up control, and allow others to dictate their lives. It is easy for them to be told to do things, than to take control for themselves. Others cling to it as if it were a piece of wood and they were lost at sea. They need to have the power of themselves, unable to allow it fall to another. As for you…” He tapped his fingertips along his chin thoughtfully, and his voice was softer as he spoke. “The control in your life has been uprooted. The things that you have come to rely on have pulled right from underneath you and you are struggling to find a way to anchor yourself in the storm.” 

Echo was speechless. Not only had articulated her feelings so well, but also his words said out loud seemed to make her situation all too real. Empathy was not what she expected, and in truth she didn’t know what to expect from Solas. Though beyond the day on the mountain, waking up from her two day coma, and now had been three encounters all together. 

_You can’t know someone after three encounters, Echo,_ she admonished herself, with a mental laugh. Yet even in her mind that laugh held a tremble of anxiety, and it grew the longer she stared at Solas. “That’s…accurate,” she said, awkwardly. After a sigh, she dropped her head against her hand. “That’s more than accurate actually.” 

The town bell rang—muffled by the walls, and the sounds of chatter in the village—and Echo remembered she needed to go meet Cassandra and Josephine. _Saved by the bell,_ she thought with a small amount of relief. “I am sorry. I have taken up so much of your time,” Echo laughed, lightly. She stood up in her seat, and Solas rose from his chair as well. “I should have already been up at the Chantry, but here I am talking your ear off. Metaphorically, because literally that would be bad.” 

“It was not great encumbrance to listen. I imagine it will become a privilege to be able to speak to the Herald of Andraste. Perhaps I should consider myself blessed,” Solas stated, with a soundless chuckle. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, please,” Echo begged. 

Solas lifted a silent and questioning brow. 

Echo gave him a flat look in return. “Look, Mr. Apostate, it’s Echo. It’s a two syllable word, very easy to pronounce. Much easier to say than Herald or Herald of Andraste,” she told him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Remember that for the next time we chat, alright?” 

“Of course,” Solas said, urbanely. 

Echo didn’t believe him. She was certain he was humoring her because his eyes were doing the whole smiley thing again, and that meant he was entirely too amused by her right now. She was not amusing damn it. She stalked out of the tavern with a consternated look on her face. _Why am I so defensive right now?_ Echo had to ask herself as she wrapped her arms around her midsection. 

As she trudged along the path, Echo found the answer almost immediately. She had revealed her fears, and Solas had seen too much. She didn’t let a lot of people see the chinks in her armor, and the moment that she realized that she had revealed them to Solas—who was barely an acquaintance, even if did save her life—it had triggered her defense mechanism. A wry joke to distance herself from the situation, and the hasty escape that followed. Classic Echo Harper style right there. 

There was a fragile kinship that lingered between her and Solas, but it gave Echo great pause for many reason. Firstly, her trust did not come free, and it was not easy to gain. Secondly, there was Solas himself. The way he held himself, the way he spoke, the way he preformed his magic—all of it tickled along the edge of her mind. There was also something beneath all the mild manners, and carefully composed expression. A hint of danger that made her blood quicken in her veins, and it made no sense at all. 

Yet her gut rarely steered her wrong. 

Trying to shove her moment of weakness to the back of her mind, she passed through the Chantry doors, and felt an unease slither across her skin. There was a slight tremble in the air, and she eyed the pillars carefully. Trying to shrug off her unease, she moved towards Josphine’s office and when she opened the door she found herself smack dab in the middle of an argument. 

A nobleman, obviously Orlesian by his rich, bright yellow tailored suit and the matching mask that was upon his face. “The Inquisition cannot remain, Ambassador, if you can’t prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders,” the nobleman stated, imperviously. 

Echo frowned. Who was this man to say the Inquisition could not stay here in Haven? She watched Josephine stepped forward, her expression genteel and kind despite the clear disregard the man had just shown her. “This is an inopportune time, Marquis DuRellion. More of the faithful flock here each day. But,” Josephine caught Echo out of the corner of her eye, “allow me to introduce you to the brave soul who risked her life to slow the magic of the Breach, Echo Harper.” 

Echo had a reluctant look on her face, but stepped further into the room. She tried to make sure her posture was immaculate, and that she didn’t slouch. Keep her chin level, she looked between Josephine and the Marquis. “Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, Ambassador?” Echo said, trying to put on her best face. 

Josephine smiled lightly. “Mistress Harper, this is the Marquis DuRellion, one of the Divine Justinia’s greatest supporters.” 

_So manners was a good call,_ Echo thought, with a small nod. From what she understood was the Inquisition hoped to cultivate Divine Justinia’s supporters in order to lend the fledging organization better backing, especially with the Chantry so quiet. A quiet Chantry wasn’t a good one, Leliana had told her with a severe expression and Echo would be a fool to second guess the spymaster. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marquis,” Echo said, as politely as she could muster. She didn’t do politics, but it was expected so she would just grin and bear it. “Divine Justinia’s loss is…beyond words. She will be greatly missed for a long time to come.” 

The Marquis had tensed at her arrival, and his eyes had flickered to her strange eyes to her ear tips with a bit of trepidations. However, his posture softened slightly at the sincerity behind her words. “Truer words have never been spoken. She is…was a woman of supreme merit,” he said, his voice quiet. He clasped his arms in front of him, and drew in a deep breath before he lifted his lowered head. “Lady Josephine, Lady Herald, it is not my intention to cause your Inquisition problems. However, as the rightful owner of Haven, there is certain protocol to be followed. House of DuRellion lent Justinia these lands for a pilgrimage. This ‘Inquisition’ is not a beneficiary of this arrangement. I will not let some upstart order remain on her holy grounds.” 

Echo’s brows furrowed. “Pardon my ignorance, Marquis, but I assumed the Chantry owned Haven. I was not aware that it was property of your house,” she stated, carefully. She looked at Josephine quickly to see if that was alright to ask, and she hadn’t made a social faux pas of some kind. 

Josephine gave her small nod of approval that went unnoticed by the Marquis who had started speaking once more. 

“My wife, Lady Machen of Denerim, has claim to Haven by ancient treaty with the monarchs of Ferelden,” Marquis DuRellion stated, with a deep breath. “We were honored to lend its use to Divine Justinia.” 

“Then would not the Divine’s memory benefit from knowing that the injured and faithful were not turned out into the snow?” Josephine commented, looking at the Marquis with an earnest expression. “Marquis DuRellion, the Chantry remains in shock. The people remain in uncertain, and mourn for the Divine as well as many others. The Inquisition does not wish to usurp authority, merely intend on restoring order to the chaos. As a good friend of the Divine’s can you not say her Left and Right hands were not in the right to try and do good by her memory to make things right?” 

Echo noticed how carefully Josephine stated that it was not the ‘intention’ to usurp any authorities, but did not explicitly state that it was not an option. She must expect opposition from the Chantry, which was a great concern from what she gathered. 

“The Divine would want that, wouldn’t she?” The Marquis was obvious have a crisis of conscious, and he sighed, heavily. “But I have seen no written records from Sister Leliana or Seeker Pentaghast that Justinia approved the Inquisition. Perhaps if there was such a document then I could allow this,” he said, wearily. 

Echo knew only one document, and that was the book that Cassandra protected like it was her very child. Sharing a quick look with Josephine, they both knew that Cassandra was more likely to drive a sword through the Marquis than allow him to taken possession of the document. Not that the Marquis intended ill, but if it fell into the wrong hands it very well could. The Divine’s writ, from what Echo understood, was the cornerstone of the Inquisition and the only validation they had. 

Echo opened, and closed her mouth. “Then…if you cannot take Leliana, and Cassandra at their word then…” She looked over to Josephine for help. 

Josephine seamlessly took over. “I’m afraid that Seeker Pentaghast must challenge them Marquis to a duel,” the Antivan woman said, without batting an eye. She poised her quill over her writing board, and looked the Marquis straight in the face. “It is a matter of honor among the Nevarrans. Shall I arrange the bout for tonight?” DuRellion’s mouth dropped in the most satisfying way, and it took everything in Echo to not smirk or burst out with laughter. Even with the mask, the expression was priceless. “W-what? No!” The Marquis held up his hands, and took a step back. His eyes darted to the door as if he have believed that the Seeker to burst through at any given second. “No, no. Perhaps my reaction to the Inquisition’s presence was somewhat hasty.” 

Josephine smiled, beatifically. “We face a dark time, Your Grace. Divine Justinia would not want her passing to divide us,” she spoke, her voice all too reasonable and understanding while at the same time driving home the graveness of the situation. “She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances to the benefit of all, no matter how strange they might seem.” 

DuRellion’s shoulder slumped, before he straightened and gave a nod. “I’ll think on it, Lady Montilyet. The Inquisition might stay in the meanwhile.” 

The Marquis made his way out the door, and Josephine closed it soundless behind him. The Ambassador gave no sign of frustration save for the small indention between her brows that immediately smoothed out when she turned to face Echo. 

“I would apologize for interrupting, but something tells me that you didn’t mind,” Echo said, allowing her posture to droop slightly. 

“Indeed,” Josephine smiled, her tone amusement. “His Grace is a good man, and I knew his good nature would prevail…though he is at times, a little stubborn.” 

”That’s an understatement,” Echo snorted, lightly. Her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Do the DuRellions actually have a claim on this place?” 

“Marquis DuRellion’s position is not as strong as he presents it. Despite their Ferelden relations, the DuRellions are Orlesian. If the marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf,” Josephine stated, primly. “The Marquis does not have enough favor with the court to ask for such a boon, not that it would be granted given the…turmoil that Orlais is currently in. The Empress’s current concerns are a bit larger than minor property disputes.” 

“There was talk of a civil war, right? Between the Empress and her…brother?” Echo asked, with a tilt of her head. 

“Cousin,” Josephine corrected, gently. She rounded her desk and gestured for Echo to take the seat opposite of her. Once both seated, the ambassador smoothly continued the conversation, “The transition into power for Empress Celene has been a tumultuous one, and met with opposition at certain times. Despite these…chaotic moments and the civil war, the majority of the nobility firmly stands behind the Empress. It will not a battle so easily won for the Duke, or a throne so easily kept by Empress Celene. I fear that Orlais will suffer much more before this is all over.” 

“You speak of Orlais with a wistful tone of voice. The kind of tone that I have when I speak of home. It is obvious Orlais means a lot to you,” Echo stated, with a tilt of her head. When the ambassador looked faintly surprised, Echo realized that she may have overstepped bounds. She after all did not know Josephine beyond the war room meeting. “I apologize if I have overstepped in some way—” 

“No. No,” Josephine hastily reassured her. “It is not that at all. I was merely surprised you had taken notice.” The ambassador smiled. “Orlais indeed means very much to me. Val Royueax has been a great character in my life, and seen me through a great deal of ordeals.” The ambassador then cleared her throat, and poised herself. “But I’m getting sidetracked, aren’t I? You did not come here to talk about the Marquis, nor Orlais,” Josephine stated, steering them back into the matter at hand. “You had concerns about joining the Inquisition.” 

“Not so much about joining. As you know I helped transport goods between the Hinterlands and Haven. Goods for Master Harritt, Seggrit and more. I need to find a replacement, but that might be difficult given the horrid mess of war,” Echo stated, seriously. It wasn’t fair to shrink her responsibilities, no matter how they pale in comparison to the hole in the sky. 

“Ah, yes. Leliana and I have already started combing through applicants since you expressed concerns,” Josephine told her, inclining her head. Dipping her quill into the inkwell, she wrote in an elegant script across the piece of paper as if were as natural as breathing. “Rest assured we will find a suitable applicant, and assuage any concern that may arise.” 

Echo exhaled, slowly. A knot of worry that had lingered in the back of her head eased, and she nodded. “Good. I will give you fair warning that Seggrit will give the new person crap. It’s just his way,” she warned, with a tilt of her lips. “Just tell them not to take it to heart.” 

“Notes,” Josephine said, scribbling it down. She lowered her quill, and placed it delicately on the desk in front. “Now onto others matters. Varric has told us…that you are an ancient elf.” 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Echo said, watchfully. “I imagine that’s not a…theory that most Andrastians would care for.” 

“That is unfortunately true. Even though it is well documented by Tevinter that ancient elves existed, the Chantry is leery of anything predating the Maker,” Josephine hesitated, her brows furrowed ever so slightly. “It gives credence to the existence of other gods, which they feel is a slight to the Maker and his beloved Andraste.” 

“But…even if other gods existed, it doesn’t disprove the Maker persay,” Echo said, with a slight frown. 

“I’m afraid that most will not see it so clearly. They will see you as a mockery of Andraste being announce her Herald, especially if your origins come to light,” Josephine commented, sympathetically. “We can try to shield this from the public, but the Chantry scrutiny will fall heavy upon you most of all. In their fear, they will try to find any means to discredit you and the Inquisition. You must learn to combat their misgivings with a level head, and as much humility as possible.” 

Echo nearly choked on her tongue. She sputtered with laughter before she could help herself, and she shook her head side to side. “I don’t…I don’t think,” she said, around her chuckles, “that is going to happen, Ambassador. I can fake it enough to muddle my way through the talk with the Marquis, but I’m not one diplomacy. I’m more upfront with my opinions instead of dancing around issues, and every other word tends to be a curse word out of my mouth. Add in the fact that I have pointed ears, I think I am the nobilities’ worst nightmare.” 

“Or the perfect person to make them see all the issues that they’ve been blinded to,” Josephine countered, tactfully. “Elves are often overlooked. Their plights and suffering silenced tragically, but as the Herald you can shed light on that, and much more if you try to sway nobles to your cause. Honey attracts flies more than vinegar.” 

Echo arched a brow. “Are you saying the nobles remind you of flies, Lady Ambassador?” She asked, amused. 

“’Tis merely a metaphor,” Josephine smiled. “Though there are days where they can appear as such.” 

Echo decided that out of the four heads of the Inquisition that she liked Josephine most of all. While Echo had a feeling there was a crafty side beneath the sweet, diplomatic persona that normally would have her one edge, there was a genuine warmth to the ambassador that put the female elf at ease. “Lady Josephine, may I ask—” 

The door to the slammed open, and startled them. Josephine’s hand flew to her mouth smoother her gasp while her other folded over her heart. Echo’s chair clattered to the floor for she was on her feet in a split second, and she turned to face the intruder. “Flissa?” Echo’s eyes widened with alarm. “What’s the matter?” 

Flissa’s face was flush with exertion, and she stumbled, leaning against the threshold to hold herself up. “Ec-Echo,” she panted, wringing her hands in her apron, “you h-have to…to come quickly. It’s…the elf…Mahanon.” 

”Maha…” Echo trailed off. She remembered young Dalish elf, and she stepped forward to grasp Flissa by the shoulder to keep her from falling over. “What happened? Has his condition worsened?” She asked, worriedly. The potion should have healed him, but potions weren’t an exact science. The slightest error or variation in brewing could rend a potion useless or barely effective. 

“N-no,” Flissa shook her head. “Just…come,” she said, urgently as she tugged on Echo’s arm with a shaky hand. “Follow me.” 

Echo’s brows pinched. Looking over her shoulder, she turned towards the Ambassador. “It looks like we will have to finish our conversation a different time, Lady Ambassador,” she said, with a quick apologetic look. 

“Of course,” Josephine said, lightly. 

“Thank you,” Echo whispered, with a nod. Her mismatched eyes swept back to Flissa, and she said, “Let’s go.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would have this story all wrapped on and into the next, but alas, it just keeps getting longer. Though I don't think any of you mind that.


	9. Deep, Dark Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a rush against time to save a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! Thank you Chansisen, LadyHawke361, Misokitty, QualityRachni, LenaNectaris, iner, Hotpotato, Pride_Before_The_Fall, RevEins, RJBell, nausicaa, razgaz, miss_allieboballie, Ashleykicks, Miyaruu, DearZelly, Olemonka, DemeterAnna, PixelPrincess, Gygapudding, Lokodmaant, Icefrog, Iizzard, LeMoNisa, RitaML, maireh, Princess_Firefly, Chitsukii, 13_Ravens, melgonzo, Jisa, Lady63077, WhiteInkPenpal, nyaneki, Sehlib, UsakoAuditore, AnieActuality, DarkAngelDisuke, thetinymouse, akharding91, bakaprincess85, poetikat, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, iamniceperson, Hexilian, catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Boraluven, chain0425 and JohskatheWise and 81 guests left kudos on my story! You all are so awesome! :D  
> Thanks you, QualityRachni, LenaNectaris, nyaneki, Miyaruu, Pride Before the Fall, Cloudyfish, Keylan, RJBell, razgaz, Ashleykicks, PurplePixie, BloodOrchid, Guardian_Of_Chrona, AnieActually, kbrock1, NikaraNox, nedlordsupreme, figmentz, Modifier_x, Hexilian, Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel, seraphem31, moiha, wolfzero12, Asharevas, Opiesterling, Essindra, chaino425 for bookmarking this story. You all are amazing, and wonderful.  
> I want to thank JohskattheWise, Kelsey, Nadine, QualityRachni for the reviews! 
> 
> This chapter deals heavily with attempted suicide. It may be triggering and upsetting. Also to anyone who has had or is having thoughts of suicide, please call the prevention hotline or talk to someone you trust. Depression is the most common reason for suicide. It warps your thoughts, and makes you feel as if everyone would be better off without you. As someone who had those kind of thoughts, I can tell you it does get better. Thank you all, and bless you. :D
> 
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “On My Sleeve” by Creed  
> “Walking and Thinking” by Ra  
> “Somebody’s Else’s Song” by Lifehouse

* * *

CHAPTER NINE 

“Deep, Dark Places” 

* * *

Seven Years Ago 

New Harmony, Indiana 

EARTH 

* * *

Echo was weightless. 

She was floating in the inky darkness, and she couldn’t move even if she had tried. Not that she wanted to try. She just wanted to sink deep into the darkness, and let the world around her fall away. The sensation of a cold bathroom tile beneath her was numbing and then it faded. The noise from the leaky faucet—drip, drip, dripped until it became nothing, but white noise. _It’s better this way,_ Echo thought, quietly. A heavy fog wrapped around her mind, and awareness slipped away without a fight. Her heartbeat slowed within her chest, and it would fade away, too. 

It was almost gone when a sharp jolt rushed through her body, as if she had been shocked. Her ears tingled like they had heard a noise, but her mind was too far gone to register it. Yet she wasn’t too far gone to register that something had grasped her arms, and hauled her off the ground. _Hands. Someone has their hands on me,_ Echo thought, with despair. Shame splintered into her because she never meant to be found like this, and impossible tears welled up in her eyes. 

Words floated around her, but her ears were deaf to their meaning. The hands shook her, and rattled her just to the edge of reality. Her chest stuttered with panicked breaths, and she felt helpless. She was folded forward, her body leaning into someone else’s and a hand grabbed her chin, roughly. She heard the faintest curse from the person beside her, and her mouth was forced opened. Echo could barely comprehend what was going when two fingers shoved back far enough to hit her tonsils while a thumb was pressed at the junction of her jaw to keep her from biting down. Echo body lurched forward, and her throat muscles tensed painfully as she gagged. Echo started to struggle, but it was a vain effort. Her limbs felt like overcooked noodles that were just seconds away from falling apart. 

“Come on, Echo,” the warbled and distant voice coaxed in a soothing tone. A stark contrast to the hold they had on her, and the fingers pressed against the back of her throat. They did not let up, and Echo felt her stomach jump. Acid seethed in the pit of her stomach that grew into one large and painfully knot. 

“Damnit, Echo! Just throw up the pills!” The voice barked, with a rough and raw desperation. 

Echo moaned, pitifully as the fingers jabbed roughly into the back of her throat one last time, and her stomach couldn’t take it. It rebelled, and burn of vomit came rushing up her esophagus. Echo managed to pull her heavy eyes open to see it splash across the white floor, and the smell of it burned her nose. She didn’t know how many times she threw up, only that by the end of it she was shaking and dry heaving violently. Minutes passed with her shuddering and sputtering until she laid back, her body’s burst of energy spent. 

A hand stroked her hair gently, and pulled out of her face. It took her several blinks until her blurry vision cleared, and she could make out the face that hovered above her. “Ash…” Echo croaked, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. A knot formed in the back of her throat, and her heart twisted inside her chest. 

Her friend, Ashlinn, just stared down at her with an inscrutable look on her face. “Go to sleep, Echo,” she said, her voice toneless. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

That promise should have been reassuring, but the look on Ashlinn’s face told Echo that it would be the exact opposite. Yet she felt her eyelids dip closed, her body too exhausted to stay conscious. Everything went dark, but this time, there was a heavy weight on her chest. 

The heavy weight of guilt and shame. 

* * *

  
_Haven, Ferelden  
_

_Present Time_

Icy snot pelted her in the face as she stormed out the Chantry doors, and her lungs coiled tight in her chest. Narrowing her eyes against the sleight, Echo marched down the path with Flissa chasing after her. _Bu-rumph. Bu-rumph. Bu-rumph,_ her heart pattered in her chest, and her fingers clenched into knuckle white fists. “What is wrong with Mahanon?” She asked, her hair being whipped around from the wind like a child’s play thing. 

“He was v-very upset,” Flissa rattled off. “Asked for you a couple of times. I guess you were likely the only familiar face he knew in Haven.” 

“And why did no one came to find me when he asked for me?” Echo demanded, hotly. The snow crunched beneath her feet, and people were taking shelter in nearby lodgings as the wind howled violently. 

“I…I don’t know,” whispered Flissa, worriedly. “I supposed the Seeker thought the matter had been handled.” 

Echo’s brows scrunched together, and her frown deepened. As soon as the healer’s tent came into sight, her eyes narrowed into slits, and barely heard raised voices of the harsh gust. 

“We have to find him,” a female voice said, stubbornly. 

“We can’t afford to send anyone out in this storm,” a male voice answered, roughly. “Besides, you can’t honestly think he is a threat.” 

“He attacked our soldiers. No matter what the reason that cannot go unanswered,” the female voice countered. 

Echo listened to the heated argument for all of a moment, and had a good feeling she knew who was behind the curtain. Grasping the tent flap, she roughly tossed it aside and ducked inside. Her teeth gnashed together when she found Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana already standing inside. Her suspicions had been right, and as soon as she entered the disagreement went quiet. 

“Ah, Herald,” Cullen looked slightly sheepish. “We were not expecting you.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Leliana told the Commander, with a small smirk. There was no surprise upon her face, and looked as if she had been expecting Echo this entire time. “I had a great feeling that the Herald would show.” 

“Did you now?” Echo countered, her voice coarse from the cold air. “How fortuitous that your feeling was correct then.” 

“For us both,” Leliana commented, idly. 

Echo wasn’t sure what that exactly meant, and was positive that she didn’t want to know. Her eyes flickered from Cullen to Cassandra before they finally rested on Leliana, and the edges of her mouth tightened. “Whatever happened must have been quite something to attract such attention from all of you, though I have to wonder why no one informed that Mahanon had asked for me?” She asked, her voice seemed to vibrate with ire and a cold, hard tension built in the tent. 

The Seeker pinched the bridge of her brow. “We felt that you had bigger concerns given recent events,” Cassandra replied, with a visible sigh. “And we believed we had the matter well in hand.” 

“Which we don’t,” Cullen said, dryly. 

Cassandra gave him the stink eye. 

Echo jaw tensed. “Perhaps I should decide what concerns are mine, thank you,” Echo spoke, a flinty look in her eyes as her regard for the Seeker plummeted. She understood where Cassandra was coming from, but that didn’t give them the right to decide such things for her. 

Cassandra’s jaw clicked shut, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She inclined her head, sharply. “As you wish,” she stated, brusquely. 

Leliana took the initiative to relay the events that took place. “One of my scouts informed me of an elf that caused a skirmish in the healing tents,” the spymaster said, her hands clasped tightly behind her. Leliana glanced at Flissa through her lashes, and her lips were pressed into a thin disapproving line. “I also have to question a different scout’s integrity when they first go to someone else about information they have discovered.” 

Echo felt a rush of cold skim over her spine. For a moment, she stared at Leliana in confusion until she strung the words together in her head until they made sense. Her stomach feel out from underneath her, all the air vanished from her lungs, and she looked at Flissa in mute disbelief. 

Flissa looked at her, guiltily. 

Echo swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise, and her hands clenched into trembling fists at her side. “What else do we need to know? Flissa said he was upset with the news of his sister’s death,” she said, all in one breath. Her ribs felt too sizes too small, and her lungs felt starved for breath. It was like in one moment, her body forgot how to breath all together. “Beyond that she has told me nothing, other than he wished to see me at one point.” 

Leliana raked a keen gaze across Echo, as if evaluating her. “At first, he was overcome with grief, and went eerily quiet. A few hours later, he had regain his voice and was demanding to speak with the group who discovered his sister’s fate.” 

“He also attacked soldiers,” Cullen said, arms crossed over his chest. “He was reportedly agitating others in the healing tent with his vehement request to see you, and the others. So a soldier tried to calm him. He lashed out.” 

“Given his last time a human put their hands on him, I believe his reaction is understandable,” said Echo, with a quiet frown. 

“I agree, but we had to restrain him regardless. He not in a state to listen to reason, so we put him in a tent under guard until he calmed enough to do so,” Cullen sighed, heavily. “He somehow managed to give his guards the slip, and we haven’t been able to find him since.” 

“And given his agitated state it is great cause for concern,” Cassandra stated, frowning heavily. 

“He shouldn’t be alone. Do we know where he ran off to?” Echo asked, with a foreboding roll in her gut. No one should be alone after losing a loved one. Grief did strange things, and could pull someone down into the darkest depths of their mind. To be alone when that happened meant there was nothing there to pull them back out, and Echo knew all too well how it felt to be so far down lost in herself that she couldn’t see anything beyond her own pain. She imagined that was much what Mahanon was feeling right now. 

“We do not know anything beyond the fact he is no longer in the village,” Cullen said, frowning. “He was last seen by a chantry sister who saw him run out into the woods. She also told us that he had a dagger with him.” 

A scout came charging in the tent. He immediately came to stand in front of Sister Leliana, and bowed. “Sister Nightingale, we’ve tracked him to the edge of the forest, just past Taigen’s cabin,” the scout reported, slightly breathless. “We didn’t approach him upon your request.” 

“Good,” Leliana nodded, sharply. “Anything else of note?” 

“He is extremely disturbed. He was whispering to himself, and was acting possessed,” the scout stated, harshly. “Who knows what that knife-ear is going to do.” 

Ice flooded through her veins, and Echo felt her spine stiffen. Her nostril flared as her eyes narrowed into slits, and her magic crackled against her fingertips. “Are all your scouts so blatantly stupid or is it just this one?” She asked the spymaster, her voice more akin to an animalistic growl than anything remotely kind. 

“No,” Leliana said, voice cold. “They should know better.” 

Echo stared unblinkingly at the spymaster for a long moment as if judging the weight of her words and the sincerity of them before she turned her head towards the scout. Her face deceptively calm—the calm before the storm, Varric had called it—which meant that she was more than just angry. She was _incensed_ , and she choked it down painfully. “Well, Scout…” she said, her voice too soft. “What was your name again?” 

The scout seemed to realize his words were going to cost him greatly as his eyes flickered from Echo’s ears then down to the mark on her palm. “Thomas,” the scout said, his throat bobbed. 

“Scout Thomas,” she said, with a nod. She would commit his face and name to memory. She would pass it around to all of the servants who were made up mostly of elves. One of the good things that would come from her new title was that she had a little more clout to throw around, and she would make damn well that she did some good with it. “Well, Scout Thomas, I imagine since he had just learned of his sister’s death, he went to grieve,” she stated, her voice even. “Or even returned to his clan to tell them the news.” 

“Impossible,” Leliana stated. 

Echo shot her a look out of the corner of her eye. “How so?” 

“Ellana and Mahanon were exiled from their clan when they chose to join Jote here in Haven,” Leliana explained, readily. “From what Jote had told me, the clan would sooner see them dead than welcome them back with open arms.” 

_Then why had Mahanon said he was gathering information for his clan?_ Her brows furrowed together, and then her heart sank inside of her chest. _Of course. What does a child do for their parent when they think they’ve done something wrong? Hope to appease them. He must have thought bringing knowledge of the Conclave would somehow appease his Keeper’s angry, and their exile would be reversed._ Her eyes darted all over the tent, and then landed on a cot in the corner. Suddenly Echo felt cold for a whole different reason. A shiver flirted along her spine, and her heart squeezed painfully tight in her chest. “This cot was Mahanon’s?” She asked, her voice light. 

“Yes,” Cassandra replied. “We were hoping that perhaps his belongings would give us a clue as to where he would go, but we discovered nothing.” 

Echo walked cautiously over to the cot. Everything had been left behind. A journal made from halla leather where different elven stories had been copied down, along with a few elvhen words as if Mahanon was attempting to teach himself. It was left open, upon the bed with a solitary dagger that was missing it’s twin. His spare clothes and bedding were still tucked underneath the bed, and Echo muttered an oath beneath her breath. “Call back your people. He isn’t going back to his clan, and he isn’t going to hurt anyone,” Echo said, her jaw trembled. 

“And how do you know that?” Cassandra demanded. 

Echo raised her gaze to meet the Seeker’s as a hollow feeling gnawed at her chest. “Because…” She said, on a sorrowful sigh. “Because the only person Mahanon intends to harm is himself.” 

* * *

_New Harmony, Indiana_

_Seven Years Ago_

Consciousness was sudden and agonizing. Pain flared up in the pit of her stomach. The sound of her rattling breaths were thunderous to her own ears as Echo eyes fluttered. Her attempt on her own life failed, and she remembered Ashlinn. Anxiety, shame, and helplessness burrowed underneath her skin and sank deep within her heart. She finally peeled her eyes open, and sighed when she pressed her hot cheek against the cold tile. It took her several moments for her vision to come into focus, and when it did she sat Ashlinn leaning against the doorway. 

Several heartbeats ticked by, and neither of them moved. It felt like a razor sharp pendulum swung in the air between them, and one of them was bound to get hurt. Slowly feeling seeped back into her limbs, and Echo managed to push herself into a sitting position in between the toilet and sink. A pain grimace twisted across her face, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. A pitiful moan slipped from her lips, her eyes fell shut and her entire body from head to toe was shaking. 

Echo swallowed, her throat feeling raw and throbbed with pain. It felt as if someone had taken sandpaper to the inside of her esophagus. Her eyes fluttered back open, and she looked at Ashlinn who had not said a single word. Echo’s lips trembled, her words failed because she didn’t know what she could say. _I’m sorry that you found me in the middle of a suicide attempt?_ Somehow, Echo didn’t believe that would make the situation any better. 

Ashlinn’s chest rose and fell with labored breath as her legs trembled with the great effort to stand. She had a knuckle white grip of the sides of the threshold and her eyes held a sharpness that Echo had never seen directed at her before. “When you can pick yourself off the floor…take a shower,” Ashlinn ordered, her voice deceptively soft. “You stink like vomit.” 

Echo reeled back. She knew that the caustic tone was well deserved, but it didn’t stop the flare of hurt that twisted in her heart. Shame seethed in her gut, and she looked away from her friend. 

Ashlinn swallowed, and slowly turned around. “And Echo?” She didn’t bother to look over her shoulder. “Make it a quick shower. If you take too long, I will barge in here.” 

“I have a right to privacy, Ash,” Echo argued, weakly. She leaned back against the sink, and keep her eyes on the floor because she couldn’t bear the disappointment that she knew was on Ashlinn’s face. 

Ashlinn did look over her shoulder then to level a glower at Echo. “And with your right to privacy, you locked yourself up in your bathroom and downed practically an entire bottle of painkillers,” Ashlinn said, matter-of-factly. Her shoulder had been drawn into a tight line, and her hands were clenched into fists at her side. “You’re lucky that my mother is a doctor, and that you had a friend who knew what to do.” 

“Was,” Echo corrected, angrily. The second it passed her lips, she immediately regretted it. She saw the way Ashlinn flinched at the heartless reminder, and immediately felt like a bitch. It was unfair to lash out like that at her because Ashlinn wasn’t the one who did something wrong. That was all on Echo, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. “Ash, I…” she started, but faltered. 

Ashlinn drew in a deep breath, her eyes closed tightly together and it looked like she wanted nothing more than to lunge at Echo. Then slowly melted away from her expression, and she just shook her head. “Just take your shower, Echo,” she stated, coldly. 

Echo felt tears burn her eyes when the door closed in a whisper behind Ashlinn, and it felt like a heavy weight crashed down upon her chest. It took a handful of minutes for her to gain enough strength to stand, and she looked at the bathroom door. The door handle had been removed, so there was no way to lock it. After clumsily pulling off her clothes, she stumbled into the shower. The jets of water hit her like ice, and took several moments to turn blistering hot as she twisted the handle as far as it would go. 

With her heart in her throat, Echo sank to her knees. Her fingers tangled through her hair, and her nails dug into her scalp. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the bottom of the tub. The scalding hot water pelted against her back like it was melting off her skin, and she couldn’t feel it. She could feel nothing beyond the growing pit of despair inside of her. 

And broke down sobbing. 

* * *

_Haven, Ferelden_

_Present Time_

There was no doubt in Echo’s mind that was what Mahanon intended to do. There was an agony that splintered through her chest, and it was a knowing kind of pain. Her heartbeat pounded painfully at the base of her throat, and she felt horribly sick to her stomach. She walked down the path as the blizzard raged on with Cullen and Cassandra following close behind her. 

“Herald, wait. To go out in this storm alone is madness. Our men can—” Cullen started. 

“Do what? Drag him back? All he has done is leave the village and as far as I was aware that wasn’t a crime,” interrupted Echo, her mismatch gaze glowed harshly in the torchlight. “They’ll see a weapon in the hand of knife a ear, and strike them down without reason. Can you assure me that _every_ soldier under your command will be able to make the distinction between a threat and a grieving elf with a knife? Because I’m not willing to risk it.” 

Cullen opened his mouth, but his words faltered. He could not make such assurances. While he did not tolerate such behavior from his troops, he did not have eyes on them at all times and could not attest to how they acted in their off time. Though he did handle the complaints that were made, few elves trusted authority. He did what he could, but if he were honest, he knew it wasn’t enough. “You are right. As much as I try, even I do not know all the people under my command well enough to say that they would not do such a thing,” the Commander sighed, heavily. 

Echo relaxed slightly when she realized the Commander was not about to challenge her. Her expression turned softer and sadder. “He is out there because he wants to die. He feels like has lost everything. He lost his clan, his friend, his sister…” Echo He intends to die out there, and I intend to stop him.” 

“How?” Cassandra demanded, not unkindly. “You cannot go out there alone. Not in such a storm. You do not know where he is going, and he may have already taken his own life. You may already be too late to save him.” 

“Attempting to take your life isn’t a split second decision. It’s something you grapple with day end and day out,” Echo commented, her throat bobbed. Her nostrils flared with a shaken breath, and sweat broke out along the nape of her neck. Bad memories came from the back of her mind where she had carefully tucked them away, and it was hard to keep them there. “This probably not the first time he has contemplated taking his life, but before he had reasons to stay his blade. Now that his sister is dead…” 

“He feels he has no reason to go on,” Cullen finished, with a weary countenance about him. 

“How can you be so certain?” Cassandra asked. 

Echo bowed her head, emotions swirled in her stomach. “I just know,” she countered, quietly. “And if I am wrong and he has already taken his life? Then the least I can do is bring his body back.” 

The Seeker stared at Echo for a second before she sighed, and nodded. “Very well. I will accompany you,” Cassandra stated, firmly. 

Echo wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but knew it was useless fighting with the Seeker. Besides, it would waste time they did not have. “Cullen, have your men stationed at the village gates. If Mahanon returns, he will need immediate from being out in this storm,” Echo requested, with a worried frown. “Also…let Captain Chesthair know what’s going on.” 

“Captain Chesthair? Are you…are you talking about Varric?” The pitch of Cassandra’s voice elevated, and sounded very strained. The Seeker looked completely at a loss like a chantry sister whose undergarments had been nailed to the chantry’s board. 

“The one and only,” Echo replied, without a lick of shame. “Do I have your word, Commander?” 

Cullen snorted, his lips twitched, and he drew up his hands to cover it. He had to look away for a trice before he managed to compose himself. “You have my word,” Cullen replied, with a nod. 

* * *

_New Harmony, Indiana_

_Seven Years Ago_

When Echo got out of the shower she found a clean outfit placed on the foot of her bed, folded with extra care and her pair of fuzzy fox slippers on the floor in front of them. Her favorite red robe had even been set out, and she stared at the objects for a long time before she even made a move to put them on. After she dressed, Echo slipped down the stairs and felt a bundle of nerves twisted in her gut. She was worried about what reception she would find, and when she came around the corner into the living room, she found Ashlinn lounging on the couch with a medical book in her hand. 

On the coffee table was Echo’s favorite broccoli cheese soup from the local deli, recently delivered judging by the steam still coming off of it. Echo looked from the bowl of soup to Ashlinn almost suspiciously. 

Ashlinn turned a page, and finally lifted her gaze to acknowledge Echo standing there. “You are lucky. I was about to make my way up there. You’ve saved me the time,” Ashlinn said, her tone flat. Her eyes flickered back to her book, and scanned the page meticulously. 

Echo wiggled her toes in her fluffy slippers, and clutched her robe tighter around her. “Haven’t you read that book before?” Echo said, awkwardly. She was trying to find something to diffuse the tension that lingered around them, but her heart sank in her gut. She knew it was a useless effort. Nothing in the world could make Ashlinn forget finding Echo lying on the bathroom floor, and Echo twisted her fingers nervously into her robe. 

“I’m reread it,” Ashlinn replied, shortly. 

“You have photographic memory,” Echo commented, rubbing her throat gingerly. “Why would you need to go read a book again?” 

“I have a near eidetic memory, meaning there is room for error,” Ashlinn corrected, very clinically. It seemed she was making an effort to keep a level of distance between them, and it just made Echo feel all the more worse. “I want to read about overdosing, and the side effects. Just in case, I need to rush you to the hospital.” 

“I feel fine,” Echo said, quickly. She didn’t want to the go the hospital. Though her stomach ached, and she had a bit of a headache, she did not want to go to the hospital. There was a 72 hour lock down for a person who committed suicide, and Echo could not imagine being monitored like that. She didn’t want that. 

“Says the person who attempted to overdose nearly over an hour ago,” Ashlinn countered, sharply. 

The comment struck a chord deep within Echo, and her jaw trembled. This was not the Ashlinn she was used to. Ashlinn always managed to smile, even in trying time. Not even after the car crash that had claimed her parents’ lives had the smile been stolen. But now? Ashlinn was _not_ smiling. Ashlinn was cold, and harsh in such a way that it made Echo feel like Death would knock at her door at any given second with a spade in one hand and a scythe in the other. 

Ashlinn hummed underneath her breath, and flipped a page. “There’s food on the table,” she commented, lightly. “I ordered your favorite. You need something light to have on your stomach right now, or else you’ll just get sick again.” 

Echo gnawed on her lower lip before she moved cautiously to the couch that sat adjacent from the one that Ashlinn had claimed. She sank down onto the cushion, and started down at the food like it was a poisonous snake instead of her favorite meal. After a few minutes, she picked up the bowl and stirred the soup with the spoon. Her stomach in equal measure wanted the food, and seethed at the thought of it. 

Echo managed to get a couple of bites of food down when Ashlinn got off the couch, suddenly. Ashlinn swayed on her feet, and a hiss of pain escaped her lips. Inhaling harshly, Ashlinn made her way over to the window and glanced outside at the empty driveway. “I told my grandmother I’d be staying over,” she said, tonelessly. “I lied about your parents being home. A lie I will pay for, but I’ll think she’ll understand given the circumstances.” 

Echo set her spoon back into the bowl of soup, and noticed how Ashlinn reached down to massage her right leg. It was obvious it was hurting her greatly. “You shouldn’t be up moving about,” Echo said, concerned. It was far easier to focus on something else, then to bring up why tension hung in the air like a knife poised to strike. “Where is your cane?” 

“The doctor said the physical therapy was going well enough that I could start walking without it,” Ashlinn stated, stiffly. “And no amount of changing the subject is going to get rid of the elephant in the room, Echo. So don’t even try.” 

Echo tried to smile. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try,” she said, with an uncertain laugh. The sad joke was dead on arrival, and Echo grimaced. Running her finger through her wet hair, she looked at Ashlinn while shaking her head side to side. “What do you want from me, Ash? To say I’m sorry?” 

“No, because I’m not sure you’d mean it. I think that you are still stuck in the mindset that killing yourself was the right thing to do,” Ashlinn commented, blunt and straight to the heart of the matter. There was no delicate, or placating overtures. “What were you _thinking_ , Echo?” 

Echo had always envied Ashlinn’s ability to be diplomatic and level-headed in heated situation. The drama of high school was a perilous one that people often underestimated because it wasn’t often life threatening. Just traumatizing. But despite Ashlinn’s resolve to always be peaceful, didn’t mean the other teenage girl did not have a spine. If anything, when Ashlinn was pushed, she could be rather ruthless. Echo had always seen it from at Ashlinn’s side. She had never been on the receiving end of it, and Echo’s cheek heated with indignation. 

“Look, Ash, if you are going to just yell then just get it over with, alright? This whole babying,” she said, gesturing to the robe and soup, “and then the whole cold shoulder act is just something I don’t want to deal with.” 

“It’s not babying you. It’s making sure you are alright,” Ashlinn said, her voice hardened. Her eyes flashed like lightning, and her hand were curled into knuckle white fists. She looked like she had swallowed a particularly bitter pill. “As for the cold shoulder act, how else I am supposed to act when I found my best friend trying to commit suicide?” 

Echo’s jaw snapped shut, and her lips pressed together in a thin, stubborn line. Her nostrils flared as she drew in a slow breath, and she looked stubbornly away from Ashlinn. She knew that Ashlinn had a right to be angry, but Echo’s cried out that her friend just didn’t understand. That she couldn’t understand. 

Ashlinn’s face softened. “And I’m not going to yell at you,” she said, silently. She walked over to the couch, and reclaimed her spot with deep sigh. “Though you’d deserve it if I did.” 

Echo bit the inside of her cheek, and blinked away the tears that threatened pool in her eyes. “Then what are you going to do?” Echo asked, scathingly. 

“It’s called tough love, Echo,” Ashlinn said, her voice wobbled with anger, and pain, and sadness. Her blue eyes were blazed like blue fire, and if her gaze could, it would have reduced Echo to ash. “It means I’m going to be so irritatingly like a mother hen, and monitor you so you don’t end up hurting yourself. You can come back from depression. You can come back from bad times, but not if you are dead, Echo. There is no coming back from that. Do you understand that? You’d be gone! And there would be no way to bring you back! Just a cold tombstone, and a body in the ground!” 

Echo jumped when Ashlinn slammed her fist down on the hardwood table; the sound resonated through the entire room before followed by a damning sort of silence. Ashlinn’s face twisted painfully before she brought up her hand to wipe away angry tears. “Damnit, Echo,” Ashlinn said, roughly. “I just buried my parents. I refuse to have to bury you, too!” 

Echo’s teeth gnashed together as she tried to the torrent of emotions inside of her. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for this to happen,” whispered Echo, her pulse jumped in her throat. She had thought about them; her parents, her friends, everyone who cared about her. They were the reason she had kept holding on for so long, but bit by bit her thoughts chipped away at her. She had convinced herself that they’d be better off. What future did she have? With her epilepsy, what person would hire her? She felt like a useless burden, and that thought had been like a poison. It had soaked into her veins without restraint and she remembered picking up the pill bottle. She held it in her hand for what seemed like forever, her heart completely torn with indecision. In the next moment, she was desperately shoving pain pills in her mouth. Her parents weren’t home. It was the straw that broke the camels back, and right now, she’d give anything to take it back. “It just…I was lost in my head, and all the everything was…” 

Echo remembered thinking that her parents wouldn’t be home until tomorrow night, and that no one would find her until it was too late. Yet Ashlinn had. Ashlinn who always had a sixth sense when she was in trouble showed up in the nick of time. 

“I shouldn’t be this way,” Echo whispered out, hollowly. She had spent hours upon hours trying to somehow pull herself out of the hole that she had slowly fell down into. It was such a dark, deep place that she couldn’t find any light or way out. “I have no reason to be depressed. I have great parents. I get good grades. I just don’t…” she licked her lips, and blinked away from tears. “I just don’t understand why I feel so empty. I feel like I’m missing this vital piece of myself, and no matter how hard I search, I am never going to find it.” 

“Depression doesn’t always make sense. It’s a disease, not solely a state of mind,” Ashlinn stated, her eyes searched Echo’s face. Her cold expression begun to thaw, and the worry shined in her blue eyes. “You know this. You know it’s partly tied to your epilepsy.” 

“I know it,” Echo said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “But knowing doesn’t seem to help. It just makes it worse. I should know how to handle it. I should know that suicide isn’t the answer, but it feels like there is this gaping hole of despair that opens up inside of my chest. Every good thought suddenly turns ugly, and nothing I do is ever enough.” 

“Have you tried therapy?” Ashlinn asked, seriously. 

“The last therapist I had dubbed my issues as teenage angst, and wouldn’t really listen to what I had to say,” Echo said, her nose wrinkled. “Needless to say, I stopped going.” 

“Well, maybe you just need a new therapist,” Ashlinn commented. “I know a good therapist. Her name is Dr. Darcy, and I go see her.” 

“You go to a therapist?” Echo asked. 

Ashlinn smiled, sardonically. “We all have our demons, Echo,” she said, her tone very quiet. Her jaw worked up and down, and she picked up her book. She dropped it on the table with a thud. “And as much as you’d like to keep running from them? You going have to face them, and face this.” 

A prolonged silence followed Ashlinn’s declaration, and Echo looked down at her hands. “Are you going to tell my parents?” Echo asked, hesitantly. She knew in her heart that they needed to be told, but she didn’t relish in the thought of telling them. She loved her parents, and she didn’t want them disappointed in her. 

“No, I’m not. That needs to be you,” Ashlinn told her, with a small frown. “But you have to tell them, Echo. You can’t keep this bottle up inside. It’ll just fester up like an infection, and…” Ashlinn looked away for several moments, and sighed heavily. Her shoulder slumped, and she looked back at Echo, earnestly. “As selfish as this is, I need you to be alright so I can be alright. You are the only person who helped me not give up when the doctor’s said that I would never be able to walk right again. That I was damaged,” Ashlinn said, her voice strained. Her face went pale as she remembered walking up in the hospital and told her parents were dead, and that she may never walk again. “My grandmother tried her best, but she was grieving my dad and my mom. You, however, pushed me. When I was doing good, you expected better from me.” 

Echo felt emotions swell up in her throat, and stole her voice. She blinked back the fresh wave of tears, and sniffled. “I don’t want to be someone’s burden, Ashlinn,” Echo whispered. 

“Burden? You are not a burden. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to live without you,” Ashlinn said, the emotions she had hidden behind the aloof façade finally showing. Her throat tightened, and she drew in a much needed breath. “You have always been there for me. How can you not expect me to be there for you?” 

Echo flushed slightly. “I don’t think I do as much as you imply,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

“You do more than you think,” Ashlinn countered, softly. “I wish you wouldn’t underestimate yourself. I honestly think if you put your mind to it that you could do amazing things.” 

Echo scoffed, loudly. “Let’s not go overboard with the pep talk here. Amazing things? Somehow, I don’t think that is going to happen,” she said, with a shake of her head. 

“You never know,” Ashlinn said, with a distant look in her eyes. “Stranger things have happened.” 

Echo laughed, slightly. Her quick smile dropped when she really looked at her friend for the first time, and let out a small exhale. “Ash, about what I said about your mom…” 

Ash shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize, Echo. I know you didn’t mean it. You were just trying to drive me away because you were hurt and upset,” she said, with an understanding smile. “Though you do realize that it takes a lot more than that to get rid of me?” 

“I know,” Echo bit back a smile. “You’re like a fungus. You just grow on me, and won’t go away.” 

Ashlinn let out a sharp laugh. “Ass,” she accused, but her voice held no conviction. Slowly her smile eased away from the sides of her mouth, and a graveness settled over her features. “But in all seriousness, if you ever do anything stupid like this again, I will beat the hell out of you, are we clear?” Ashlinn warned, very somber and very grave. 

“Yes,” Echo said, with a heartbreaking smile. “To be fair, with the shitty way I’m feeling…I don’t think I’m going to try anything like that again.” 

“You promise?” Ashlinn whispered. 

“I promise,” Echo said, and she meant it. She really did mean it. But maybe it didn’t have to be all okay. Maybe it didn’t need to be all neat and sorted right now. Maybe there was nothing wrong with being not alright, and for the first time in a long time, Echo felt some of the despair slip away from her heart. For the first time, it felt like she could breath and hope that just maybe she wasn’t alone in this fight. 

Ashlinn nodded, then held up hand. Her pinky was extended out, and had a lopsided smirk that made her look more like the Ashlinn that Echo knew. “Pinky swear?” 

“Ash…” Echo said, with exasperation. 

“What? Pinky swears are very sacred,” Ashlinn said, not lowering her pinky. 

Echo huffed, with amusement then reached out. Her pinky wrapped around Ashlinn’s and they shook on it. “Happy now?” Echo asked, pulling her hand back. 

Ashlinn dropped her hand into her lap. She just looked sad because there was no true guarantee that Echo could give that she wouldn’t do something like that again. Depression was a battle that Echo would have to fight throughout her entire like, and there was always a chance her depression would send her into another downward spiral. Both of them knew this conversation wasn’t a magical band-aid, and there was no instant fix for what happened tonight. “It’s a start,” Ashlinn said, quietly. "And I'm promise I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you get better." 

Echo's heart squeezed painfully tight, and she swallowed, looking away from her friend so she didn't break down and cry again. 

* * *

_Outskirts of Haven_

_Present Time_

Daylight had finally broke through the storm clouds, and an deep yellow glow over the snowy landscape. The rays of the sun framed the trees, and the druffalo grazed across the way in search of elf root to nibble on. The break in the storm would not last. Grey clouds billowed above, and the temperature dropped as the chill in the air grew. They had just passed Taigen’s cabin, and the gates when Echo first spotted fresh tracks in the snow. “These were recent,” she said, pointing them out to the Seeker. She knelt down and brushed her fingers delicately along one of the footprints. “They haven’t been covered with fresh snow yet.” 

“Then Mahanon is nearby,” the Seeker concluded. 

“Yes, and hopefully still with a pulse,” Echo said, grimly. They ventured farther into the forest, and the cold made her bones ache. Her teeth throbbed inside her mouth, and her gums felt overly hot compared to the wind. It was a rather disconcerting feeling because Echo knew that they could not stay in this cold for much longer. If they did not find Mahanon soon, they’d have to abandon the trail and return to Haven. 

The Seeker stopped abruptly, and her eyes scanned the thicket of trees up ahead. “There’s movement,” Cassandra said, pointing slightly to the right. “Beyond those tree.” 

“But is it Mahanon?” Echo frowned, deeply. A thicket of trees obscured the clearing up ahead, but by the thin shadow that peeked underneath them, she knew it was too small to be a druffalo, but too big to be a nug. _It has to be Mahanon,_ Echo thought, a surge of hope flared in her chest. “Seeker, there is something we need to clarify before we go any farther.” 

The Seeker narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And what is that?” She asked, with an overly caution tone. 

Echo rose to her full height which wasn’t nearly impressive as Cassandra’s Amazonian stature, but she held the Seeker’s gaze all the same. “I’m going to go and see if that’s Mahanon,” Echo said, slowly, “I need you to stay back.” 

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “You cannot be serious. What if he attacks you? You have no weapon to defend yourself,” said the Seeker, with a shake of her head. 

“I’m a mage,” Echo said, defensively. 

“An untrained one,” Cassandra retorted, hotly. “You cannot know if you will be able to summon up an attack before he strikes.” 

Echo held up her hand before she dropped it back to her side, and sighed. “Seeker, I understand your worry and it’s appreciated. But if you go charging into that clearing with me,” she said, pointing towards the tree line where the tracks led, “then Mahanon is going to panic. That’s a good way for this to end ugly when it doesn’t have to.” 

“This may end ugly whether you like it or not,” Cassandra countered, darkly. 

Echo stared up at the Seeker for a hot moment, and ran her finger through her hair roughly. “Look, we are going to have to trust each other at some point, Seeker,” Echo challenged, eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to like my ideas, but you are going to have to trust that I know what I am doing. Can you do that? Can you give me at least that little bit of trust, for right now?” 

Cassandra said, her nostril flared. Her brows creased, and her jaw clenched then unclenched. “Fine. But take caution with Mahanon. I’ve seen people do things they would not normally do when in the throes of grief. Also know that should Mahanon pose a risk to your person, I will be forced to intervene. Your mark is our only chance at closing the Breach, and were to perish…” 

Echo gave a half smile. “I don’t plan on dying, Seeker.” 

“No one ever does,” Cassandra countered. 

Echo rubbed back of her neck where all the muscles had become nearly rock hard with tension, and she looked away from the Seeker to the tree line. Swallowing down her trepidation, she made her way forward. Each stride was filled with purpose and determination, until the moment she stepped beyond those trees that there was a three foot drop straight down. Echo yelped when the ground disappeared right from under her, and she went tumbling down face first into the snow. In her head, she thought that it was a good thing that Varric had not been here. There was no way she would live that down. With a groan, she lifted her head up out of the snow to see Mahanon standing only five feet away. 

Mahanon stared at her, his mouth agape and blinked. 

Echo huffed, her breath coming out like a puff of smoke. Placing her hands palm down against the snowy ground, she pushed herself up to her feet. Once they were firmly planted on the ground, she dusted off the specs of snow that stubbornly clung to her clothes, and she looked up at Mahanon with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sorry to barge in like that,” she told him, her voice not sounding the least bit apologetic. When he took backed away skittishly, she held out her hands and took a slow half a step closer. “Heard you were looking for me. Here I am.” 

Mahanon didn’t know what to make of her. His eyes were wide, and swirled with so many emotions. His tongue darted out nervously, and wetted his lips. The dagger in his hand shook, and he took another step back to put further distant between them. His head twisted, and he looked over his shoulder into the darkness of the forest. If he bolted, then he could flee into the storm and there was a great chance they wouldn’t find him in time. 

“No, no, no. Talk to me, Mahanon,” Echo said, her hand reaching out. She could see he wanted to run. Fear, indecision seemed to come off him in waves, and a person would have to be blind no to see it. She didn’t take a step forward because she didn’t want to agitate him into doing something he would regret. “Let me know what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

“…No, just go,” Mahanon shook his head. His shoulders hunched forward like a wounded animal, too scared to trust or believe. “There is nothing you can do for me.” 

“I can’t do that,” Echo told him, her voice cracked with sadness. “And I can help more than you think. Believe me when I say I am probably one of the people in Haven who knows exactly what you are going through right this moment.” 

“There is nothing you can do for me, flat-ear,” Mahanon said, his tone quaked around the insult. 

Echo arched a brow with a deadpanned expression. “Next time you insult someone do it with more conviction,” she told him, her tone completely benign. “It tends to make them believable. Besides, it’ll more than that to drive me off. You think I don’t know what you doing this? Why you are doing this? I understand more clearly than you know.” 

“You know nothing,” Mahanon shook his head. His heart ached inside of his chest, and nausea burned up his throat. 

“You don’t want to be seen. You don’t want someone to see your pain because you feel they’d see too much,” Echo said, earnestly. Her eyes pleaded with him because she saw herself in him. A fragile reflection of a dark side of her that she fought hard to overcome, and would always have to face. “You are afraid they’d see, and not understand. That you’d be an outside again in a place that had just started to feel like home, but this time there is no family to pull you through.” 

“Don’t speak of my clan,” Mahanon spat. 

“But that doesn’t mean you have to do this, Mahanon,” Echo continued on, without batting an eye. She dared to edge closer, but was carefully to keep her hands up in the air. “Killing yourself is not the answer. Grief is a pain that doesn’t go away, but with time you can bear it. Death…death is permanent. There is not return from that. Is that really want you want?” Red hot shame crossed Mahanon’s face, and he looked away from her. “I don’t know…” Mahanon said, breathlessly. “I don’t know.” 

Echo took another step forward when she felt a shift in the air. She immediately came to a halt, and her eyes widened a fraction. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and her heart seized in her chest. A sense of wrongness seemed to crackle in the wind around Mahanon, and there was a faint taste of magic that tasted bitter and rotten on her tongue. Her mana flared in her veins. Defensively. Anxiously. With a slow breath, Echo wetted her dry lips and carefully pushed her mana outward like invisible hands. Searching and grasping like a person stumbling in the dark when it encountered something that made Echo cringed back. 

_Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,_ Echo gasped, as the tendrils of magic encountered a wicked energy that was coiled tightly around Mahanon. It was an energy that she felt only a handful of times before in waking world, but in her sleep? She had encountered despair more than any other demons in the Fade. A pervasive cloak of gloom began to weigh down her shoulder driven on ruthlessly by the unseen despair demon who had lured Mahanon out here, and now was trying to trap her as well. It was the lightest of touches, so skillfully done that if she had not been a mage that she would not have been aware of the demon’s corruption. 

“No,” it first came from her lips on a whisper. As the despair demon’s tried to sink it’s claws further into her, Echo felt a pain rippled through her soul. “No!” She shouted, and her mana shoved outward. It pushed the twisted spector’s influence off of her like a freed slave ripped away their shackles, and a wind so cold that it was hot rushed through the clearing. “Cassandra, help!” 

_“NO!”_ A demonic voice erupted from the shadows, and a dark mist pooled forth before the despair demon revealed itself. _“He is mine!”_

Echo didn’t have a moment to prepare to the blistering cold that shot up her spine, and she fell to her knees with a scream. It felt like all the nerve endings on her back had been turned to ice, and the air was so thick that she could barely find an ounce of oxygen to feed her burning lungs. Fear burned in her throat, and her chest rose with nervous jerks. 

“Herald!” A shadow fell over her, and Echo managed to lift her head to see Cassandra hunched behind her. Her shield raised, and took the brunt of the despair demon’s icy blast. She grunted, and then her dark eyes darted over Echo’s shivering form. Her lips dipped in concern, and the Seeker raised her voice to be heard over the vicious wind. “Are you badly hurt?” 

“Oh, it fucking hurts,” Echo said, through gritted teeth. Lifting her up her palm, heat pooled to the center of it and a small spark gave way to a burning ball of fire. “But I’m too pissed off to care.” 

The corner of Cassandra’s mouth lifted for the briefest of seconds, then lifted her knee off the ground and prepared to lift her shield. “On your mark,” she said, very seriously. Her hand tightened around her sword, and her head was craned towards the despair demon. 

The fire in her palm grew so hot that her own flesh began to burn, and her teeth sank into her lower lip to keep back the whimper that rose in her throat. “Now!” She said, her voice hoarse. The next second, Cassandra had lifted her shield and Echo spun around hard, throwing the fire ball at the despair with all her might. 

The demon scream echoed with a deafening intensity as the flame struck it’s bony arm, and quickly engulfed the tattered robes it was cloaked in. 

Cassandra charged the demon with a fierce battlecry, and slashed her blade in a wide arc. The demon narrowly avoided the blade, but Cassandra did not hesitate for a moment to attack again. She was relentless in her pursuit, and steeled herself against the whispers that floated into her ears. She would bow to no demon, and she slammed the demon away with her shield. 

Echo pushed herself to her feet, weakly. She looked up, and saw Mahanon standing several feet away. His face twisted as he battled with himself, and with a shaking hand he raised the point of his dagger towards his jugular. “Mahanon! Don’t!” Echo shouted, and ran towards him as fast as her legs would carry her. Her hands curled around his wrist just in time to hold back the killing blow, and both of them struggled over the dagger. Her heart flipped in her chest, and fear burned her to her core. “Let it go! Let it go right now!” 

The demon screamed. _“Finish it,”_ it egged on, dodging Cassandra’s blade. It was frantic and desperate. “FINISH IT!” 

“You have to fight, Mahanon,” Echo said, with effort. She gritted her teeth together, and threw all her body weight to the side, and forced Mahanon into a nearby tree. The Dalish elf cried out, his fingers loosened around the blade and Echo managed to pry it from his hand. She then shoved him away with all her strength and sent him back into the snow bank. 

Echo twisted around in time to see the Seeker pin the despair demon to the rock with her shield, and the demon screeched. It clawed and fought, but it was no use. Resolute, Cassandra brought down her blade right across it’s neck. A sickening crack reverberated through the clearing, and Echo winced at the sound. The unnatural chill and dreariness that had lingered the air lifted, but the light burst of warmth was poor consolation. As soon as the demon died, the illusion of a peaceful snowy clearing vanished all together. 

Frozen, mangled bodies that had been hidden by the demon’s spell came into focus, and Echo stared at them horrified. “Oh, God,” she breathed out, her heart sank like a stone in her chest. Glassy eyes, skin blue, and a silent scream on their lips. “Those poor souls…” 

Cassandra panted, rising to her feet. She approached Echo, a sorrow in her dark eyes as they fell upon the carnage. “It must have been preying upon the grief of unsuspecting victims in Haven for some time now,” the Seeker stated, with a frown. “Do you recognize them?” 

“I believe I saw the female quanari the morning before the conclave, but I cannot say for certain. With so many flocking to Haven for the Conclave it is impossible to know every individual face,” Echo said, her voice light. She was greatly troubled that no one had noticed this before now. “Though I’m sure someone at Haven should know them. People don’t just disappear off the face of the earth. Someone must miss them.” 

“We can take the matter to Leliana. If anyone is able to provide those answers, it will be her,” Cassandra said. She tilted her head to the side, and she squinted down at the bodies. “Though it is curious…” 

Echo glanced at her. “What is?” She asked, a touch wary. 

“From what Solas explained that in order to seal the rifts, the demons that came through had to be destroyed,” said Cassandra, with a speculative frown. “Their presences stretched the veil, and make the rifts. So when they died, the mark could be used to seal the rift back closed because their presences was no longer holding it open.” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Echo commented, slowly. “But this was one demon…” She raised her head, and twisted in a slow circle to look all around them. There was no flash of green, and she felt nothing. The mark upon her hand was calm and silent. “And I see no rift. So how did it get here?” 

“That is what is most troubling,” the Seeker stated, sliding her sword back into her sheath. A number of emotions swirled in the Seeker’s gaze as she stared down at the bodies. “If no rift brought this demon here, then we have to consider what else could have brought it here.” 

Echo’s head snapped towards the Seeker. “Blood magic,” whispered Echo, her voice barely audible. “You are talking about blood magic.” 

“It is a possibility,” Cassandra said, stiffly. 

“Damn,” Echo swore, underneath her breath. “Is there no other alternative? I rather not jump to blood magic. The war is already ugly and this would be just another…” She trailed off, a worried expression on her face. 

“There are other possibilities,” Cassandra replied, her lips thinned out. “Though they are better discussed at the war table than out here.” 

“Uh, can…can I have a little help?” A muffled voice came from behind them, and the two of them turned to see only a pair of arms and legs sticking out of a mound of white snow. 

“Oh. Oh!” Echo rushed over to the buried elf, and grasped his hand while Cassandra grabbed the other. The two of them hauled Mahanon out of the snow, and the poor elf looked like popsicle. His nose red, and teeth chattering. “Steady there,” she said, as he stumbled forward as if all the life had been sapped from his body. 

Mahanon blinked his bleary eyes, and swayed drunkily. He looked past both of them, and paled at the sight of the bodies. It all came rushing back to him, and “T-that…that could have been me,” Mahanon gasped out, horrified. 

“May the Maker have mercy on their souls. We will send men to come and retrieve their bodies,” Cassandra said, her expression softened for a moment. Her eyes then flickered up to Mahanon, and she narrowed her eyes. “Do you remember anything from before you came out here?” She questioned, with a no nonsense tone. 

“I…” His brows knotted, and he struggled to come with an easy answer. “It’s like a fog. I remember being in the healer’s tent, and being notified of Ellie’s…” Pain tore across his face, and a choked sob cracked his voice. “Oh, Creators,” he wept, burying his face into his hands. “Ellana and Jote…I can’t believe it…” 

Death was a concept that Echo was keenly uncomfortable with, and she was uncertain if there were words that could comfort Mahanon. Still, she tried. “I know that this hard. Losing the people you love…there is no words sufficient enough for that kind of grief, but we need you to remember,” she said, in a gentle and reassuring whisper. “Can you tell us what happened next?” 

Mahanon sniveled, a sheen of tears shined in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. “I remember being upset, and wanting to know what happened then it felt like…this _weight_ fell over me. My pain turned inward, like blades and each breath hurt. My grief was like a noose that pulled tighter and tighter around my throat until I couldn’t think of anything else. I just…I just wanted it to _stop_ ,” Mahanon whispered, his voice filled with the hopeless despair. “I just wanted it to end.” 

A maelstrom of emotions flooded through Echo, and she reached out to place a soft hand on his shoulder. “Mahanon, you…you don’t _still_ feel that way, do you?” She inquired, careful to keep any and all inflection from her voice. 

“I…I don’t want to. I don’t,” Mahanon swore, his voice quaked. “But I can still _feel_ it there inside of me. Like a stain that won’t wash away.” 

“The demon is dead, but the scars may always remain,” Cassandra spoke the ugly truth, with a margin of sympathy in her tone. 

Mahanon gave the Seeker an aghast look. 

“That doesn’t mean the feelings will consume you,” Echo said, with a quelling look at Cassandra. Obviously, the Seeker’s bedside manner was nonexistent. “Scars may remain, but sometimes it’s those scars that make us stronger.” 

Mahanon didn’t look particularly convinced, but he gave no argument. His shoulders slumped, and his expression crumbled slightly. “What…What will happen to me when we return to Haven?” He asked, with a quiet fear that he couldn’t hide. “Will I be locked up?” 

“No,” Echo said, before Cassandra could say something to the contrary. She could feel the heat of displeasure radiating off the other woman. “But we need to have you checked out by a healer.” 

“A mage healer. To make sure nothing…harmful linger,” Cassandra commented, carefully. 

“Solas can,” Echo nodded. 

“And the Commander is also to be present,” the Seeker pressed, an eyebrow arched. “Should his certain skill prove to be needed.” 

Echo let out a soundless breath, then agreed. “Fine,” she said, not putting up an argument. If anything, the Commander’s presence might put Mahanon at ease consider their brief encounter days earlier. Echo on the other hand was unsettled by the templar, no matter how much she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Good. Now that the matter is settled. We should return. The cold…” For a second, the Seeker’s breath hitched and then her expression closed up. “The cold is unbearable.” 

Echo looked at Cassandra with concerned. The battle may not have been long, but that did not mean it was so for Cassandra. She had no doubt that the demon had tried to use it’s powers on the Seeker, just like it had her. She opened her mouth, then sank her teeth into her lower lip. She did not know the other woman well enough to ask specifics. “You are right,” said Echo, quietly. “It’s best we head back.” 

* * *

The trekked back through the forest was as silent as the grave, and Echo stared stonily forward. Her cloak and clothing had not stood against the despair demon’s ice attack; the skin beneath was raw, and each movement brushed the fabric of her tunic against making her keenly aware of it. Cassandra regretfully had not thought to bring a potion, and neither had Echo. She had not though there would be a need for them. An oversight that could have cost them, and that feeling needled into her stomach relentlessly.  


_Trust me, I know what I’m doing. A person who knows what they are doing would be better prepared. You hold the mark that is needed to sew up the fucking sky and you almost died,_ Echo thought, bitterly in her head. She’d like to blame the despair demon for her soured thoughts, but knew in her heart they were a construct all of her own. She gnawed on her lower lip so greatly, she knew it would be chapped and sore in the morning. Yet she couldn’t stop it. A nervous tick that she thought she had abandoned in her childhood returned in a moment of self-doubt. _You saved Mahanon,_ she reasoned with her inner self. _Surely that means something. No, it does mean something. It could have been so much worse._

After that, the lingering self-doubts went blissfully silent. 

“Open the gates,” Cassandra ordered, as she approached them. 

Echo was drawn back to the present, and looked over the Seeker. “You know…I think you like saying that,” 

Cassandra snorted, with an expression that was closer to amusement than Echo had ever seen. The expression quickly was veiled by a more serious demeanor. “Perhaps,” was all the Seeker said in reply. 

The gates groaned as the soldier shoved them open, and when Echo passed through, she was reminded why she had chosen Haven as her ‘almost home’. There was an allure to Haven that just gave her solace, and even in the wake of the Conclave, it couldn’t be stolen. The city was like the warmth of a loving mother to her, more than willing to press her against its soft bosom and soothe her frayed nerves that had been shattered back in that forest. Here she could just be another soul, another person down the street who got lost in the crowd. Not out of place, just another piece of the ever moving puzzle. 

The mark on her palm swirled, as if reminding her such times were over. The green mark was like a lighthouse, blinding and bright and could not be ignored. Echo stroked her thumb across it lightly, and mused about how the mark almost seemed possessive, in its own way. 

“You just enjoy finding trouble, don’t you, Mocking?” Varric was there to greet them at the gate, and he looked torn between exasperating fondness and displeasure. 

Despite it all, Echo’s face split into a tired smile. “No more than Hawke,” she quipped, with a light laugh. 

“Hawke’s penchant for trouble isn’t exactly a gauge you want to live by,” Varric said, with an eyebrow arched and a small smile on his lips. The storyteller then glanced over at Mahanon, and gave a light snort. “So this is the elf that has everyone all in a stir. Funny…from the rumors floating about, I imagined a ten foot Dalish savage with a razor sharp teeth and an unholy howl running amok. You look like your average, everyday elf to me.” 

“Creators,” Mahanon’s eyes were wide, “is that truly what people are saying about me?” 

“Rumors tend to get embellished over time,” Varric said, with a sly smirk. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“With your help no doubt,” Cassandra scowled. 

“It’s the storyteller in me,” Varric stated, without shame. “You’ll thank me in time,” he addressed Mahanon, directly. “A lot less people will bother you if they think you could tear them limb from limb. Less people bothering you? Less headaches for us all.” 

“Or the rumors could drive them to lynch me,” Mahanon said, his tone dry. His pupils were pinpricks in his eyes, and his ran his hands up and down his arms as if to reassure himself that wouldn’t happen. 

“They can try, but I’d bet every last gold coin I have that they wouldn’t get very far,” Varric said, knowingly. “Echo wouldn’t let that happen, isn’t that right?” 

“Echo pursed her lips, and her brows scrunched together. She couldn’t deny the charge, and wouldn’t even try. The parellells that she had drawn from her past and Mahanon’s present had made her want to help him, and she couldn’t in good conscious wipe her hands clean of the matter. The Dalish elf might be free from the demon now, but he was still deep within his despair. It would take a great deal of effort to get him free, and he had no one left to help pull him out. “Of course, I wouldn't let anyone get away with that,” Echo said, without missing a beat. 

Mahanon shot her a look of astonishment, and it almost made Echo smile. “Varric, do you know if Solas is awake still?” Echo asked, returning her focus back to the issue at hand. 

“I’m not so close to Chuckles that I know his sleeping habits,” Varric said, dryly. “But I can go get him, if you need me to.” 

“Please,” Echo said, with a nod. “Tell him to meet us at the Chantry, and tell him the matter is urgent.” 

“As you wish, serah,” Varric said, with an over exaggerated bow. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, and marched off towards the Chantry with lengthy strides as if she wished to put as much distance between her and the dwarf as possible. 

Smug satisfaction gleamed in Varric’s before he gave Echo and Mahanon a wink, then turned on his heels to go to find Solas. 

“I swear he has a death wish when it comes to Cassandra,” whispered Echo, slightly amused. 

"Echo?" Mahanon asked, softly. 

"Hmm?" Echo turned toward the Dalish male. 

Mahanon looked at her with naked emotion on his face. Fear and uncertain clouds his eyes, his chest rose with a deep breath before he shifted uneasily on his feet. "A mage...is going to check me? Make sure that there is nothing...left over?" He said, his voice wobbled ever so slightly. "But what if there is? I know you promised to protect me, but what is there is something left? What will happen to me then?" 

A coldness swept along her skin when no immediate answer came. She couldn't promise him everything was going to be alright, or that she had the answers that he so desperately needed. Her heart felt heavy like an anchor that had been cast off from it's chain, and sank deep into the ocean below. Raw emotion swirled through her, and she reached out to take Mahanon's hand in hers. Her mana hummed beneath her skin, as if recognizing something within Mahanon was the same as herself. "I don't know," she answered, honestly. "But I can make you a promise. I promise that no matter what happens that I will do whatever it takes to make you better." 

"You can't make that promise," Mahanon whispered, hoarsely. 

Echo looked at him with a sad yet defiant look. "I just did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is officially the final chapter. I thought I would have it all done again, but the story keeps getting longer and longer as I write the chapters. Though I'm sure you all don't mind, but I hope you enjoyed. This chapter actually holds the key to a big secret if you look carefully enough. ;)
> 
> Note of Warning: How Ashlinn and Echo handled the potiential overdose is not the way one should be handled. This is fiction, not real life. If something like this happens to you or someone you know, call an ambulance right away and get help. Overdosing is serious and life threatening and not something to be taken lightly.


	10. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! Thank you Kurenekochan, Cindy_Cerberus, ImagineBlaqk, Sugah_Cookeh, Syria13, FllnPhnx914, villanellesheart, Chansisen, LadyHawke361, Misokitty, QualityRachni, LenaNectaris, iner, Hotpotato, Pride_Before_The_Fall, RevEins, RJBell, nausicaa, razgaz, miss_allieboballie, Ashleykicks, Miyaruu, DearZelly, Olemonka, DemeterAnna, PixelPrincess, Gygapudding, Lokodmaant, Icefrog, Iizzard, LeMoNisa, RitaML, maireh, Princess_Firefly, Chitsukii, 13_Ravens, melgonzo, Jisa, Lady63077, WhiteInkPenpal, nyaneki, Sehlib, UsakoAuditore, AnieActuality, DarkAngelDisuke, thetinymouse, akharding91, bakaprincess85, poetikat, nerdlordsupreme, figmentz, iamniceperson, Hexilian, catschmi, Ardis, renwenmahariel, Ghost_Sir, seraphem31, thehelsabot, Saraab, GhostTears, Rasdra, Honor_Love, Andarine_Lavellan, alizar, Kaira_Sakamoto, Reluak, M_Shadow, Sternenstaub, michael, cephalopodTriumph, MaryTheMango, Asha_revas, Zoey1066, Opiesterling, Punkettie, Catastrophobia, ashandriar, Vortex_With_An_End, fishy7073, Catann, MonoChrome, Kiirdonel, LasairTrevelyan, Boraluven, chain0425 and JohskatheWise as well as 88 guests who left kudos on my story! You all are so awesome! :D  
> Thanks you, millie435, Cindy Cerebus, QualityRachni, LenaNectaris, nyaneki, Miyaru, Pride Before the Fall, Cloudyfish, Keylan, RJBell, Razgaz, Ashleykicks, PurplePixie, BloodOrchid, Guardania_Of_Chrona, AnieActuality, kbrock1, NikaraNox, nerdlordsupreme, Secret spoils of Thedas, figmentz, Modifier_x, Hexilian, Rockmuncher, Ardis, Krystylsky, renwenmahariel, seraphem31, moiha, wolfzero12, Asha_revas, Opiesterling, Essindra, chain0425 for bookmarking this story. You all are amazing, and wonderful.  
> I want to thank SamJackie (birdymain) for the comment! :D
> 
> Chapter Inspired by:  
> “After the Storm” by Mumford and Sons  
> “Answers” by Susan Calloway  
> “Under” by Alex Hepburn

CHAPTER TEN 

“Revelations”

* * *

The inside of the Chantry seemed darker than Echo remembered. The stillness and the shadows seemed to encompass the entirety of the hall, leaving Echo with the feeling like she was an intruder upon this hallowed place. Her eyes flickered to the unlit torches that hung upon the wall, and wondered idly where the Chantry sisters were. Weariness sank bone deep, and each step forward seemed to take all of her will power. Mahanon trudged alongside of her, his back hunched and his head hung low. “You look as if you are about to attend your own hanging,” Echo told him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“I very well could be, now couldn’t I?” Mahanon retorted, sarcastically. 

“You aren’t going to be hanged,” she sighed, heavily. 

“But you can’t promise I’ll walk away unscathed,” Mahanon countered, his eyes pinned upon her back as they walked up the aisle towards the War Room at the end. 

“I’m not sure there is a way to be unscathed when it comes to dealing with demons,” Echo replied, her tone conversational despite the knot of anxiety in the center of her chest. It winded tighter and tighter making it harder to breath, and she cleared her throat harshly. “Besides, I lived in Kirkwall. If you were still affected, then I’m sure it would have shown by now.” 

Her hand wrapped cold handle of the War Room door, and a sharp jolt of pain stabbed into the center of her hand. It zapped all the way up her arm, and knocked into her shoulder blade with such force that it made her stagger back with a sharp gasp. 

“Are you alright?” Mahanon asked, alarmed. 

At first, her gut clenched with fear. Her immediate thought was the mark was growing again, but when she turned her hand over to inspect it, the mark fluttered lightly. Her brows pinched with a look of concentration, but no more pain came from her hand. There wasn’t that churning, tight feeling there had been when the Breach grew unchecked in the sky. Yet there was a shift in the air that could not be missed. It was like…a _warning_ , but what the warning was for was lost on her. 

The hair raised on the back of her neck, and she twisted half around to peer at the empty Chantry behind them. Echo rubbed her palm against the hem of her leggings before she finally answers. “Just a shock, I think,” she said, her lips dipped downward. 

“Is something wrong?” Mahanon questioned, tossing a look of his shoulder. When he saw nothing, and no one, he looked back at Echo who had a frown of concentration on her face. 

“I’m not sure.” She stared out at her surroundings for a long heartbeat before she slowly shook her head. “No. Still keyed up from the fight,” whispered Echo, dazed. The adrenaline that had saturated her blood were fading away, and her wounds begun to pulse with pain. She should have stopped by the healing tent for a potion, but her mind had narrowed upon getting Mahanon cleared above all else. 

The Chantry doors opened, a huge gust of cold air and snow flakes swooshed through the doors seconds before Solas and Varric followed. A sense of ease curled at the base of her skull at the sight of them, and then floated down across her back, softening the muscles coiled tight. Mahanon’s fate was a tricky one, especially given what happened with the demon. She felt that part of Cassandra was ready to sack the village in search of blood mages if given the chance, though she hoped that the woman’s better sense would prevail. She also knew that Cullen would wholeheartedly agree with Cassandra. What Leliana’s views were, Echo did not know, and doubted she’d ever know what the one truly believed. 

But Solas knew a great deal about the Fade and it’s inhabitants. He might have depths of knowledge that could sway the others’ minds before the Inquisition manned a witch hunt. And Varric would have her back, whether he agreed with her or not. He was that kind of friend. “Good. You’ve arrived before Cassandra got back,” Echo stated, slightly relieved. 

“Not looking forward to the Seeker’s return?” Varric chuckled. 

“Not this time,” Echo replied, seriously. 

Varric’s smile faltered. He gave Echo a contemplative stare, and his eyebrow arched upward ever so slightly. “Something tells me there is more to this story than simply an elven runaway,” the storyteller said, with a deep frown. 

“Indeed. Master Tethras explained that my expertise was needed, but was deliberately vague about exactly why,” the apostate responded. There was a slight trill in the air. Echo’s mana unconsciously fluttered around her. It was silent. Nothing more faint whisper, but it was sharp like the tip of a sewing needle pressed into a fingertip. “You are wounded.” 

With a quick glance at Mahanon, Echo pulled open the War Room door. No sharp shock this time, thankfully. “Yes. I am,” Echo said, not bothering to deny it. She was favoring her left side too greatly to go unmissed, and her temples ached with each beat of her heart. 

“What happened out there?” Varric demanded. 

“That…that is a matter better discussed when Cassandra returns with the others, and privately without unwanted ears about,” she commented, motioning for them to enter the War Room. 

After the door sealed behind the four of them, Solas turned towards her with a severe expression on his face. He surveyed her from head to toe with a tactile gaze, and he inhaled slowly. “I believe I advised you to take extra care, and _rest_ ,” Solas stated, his eyes darkened. The fact that she would be so foolish to further strain her body that was still healing astonished and angered him. 

“And I told you that was unlikely to happen,” Echo told him, cuttingly. She remembered Solas’s words of caution, and her body was paying for not listening. It was a slow burn that pulled through muscles and skin. A dull ache that only a good long sleep could remedy, and the frost burns would be cured with a potion the first chance she got. There was still much to be done. The War Council had to consult on what happened, and she could very well leave Mahanon in their hands. They were decent people, that Echo could tell. She just wasn’t ready to take a leap of faith, and place her full trust in them yet. 

Solas eyes seemed to flare slightly at her words, but he quickly composed it behind an expressionless mask. “I will tend to your wounds,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

“Pushy much?” Echo shot him a look, and placed her hands on her hips. 

Solas raised a mordant brow, unaffected. “Only when I must be.” 

“I’m going to agree with Chuckles on this one, Mockingbird,” Varric commented, his brows near his hairline. “You look like you are about to keel over.” 

Her eyes, rimmed red with exhaustion, glanced at Varric, then away, fast, as if to keep him from seeing too much. Her lips were pressed together into a firm, thin line of pure stubbornness, and her heart flipped in her chest. She held still, very still, as she were afraid to move or speak. “I can get a potion from Adan,” Echo told him, her sharp tone weakened by the apparent fatigue that set upon her brow. “I’ll be fine.” 

“While potions are quite effective, they should not be solely depended upon,” Solas chided, not in the least bit mollified. He glanced at her face, her skin was ashen and damp with sweat. “And I suspect your wounds need immediate attention. Being a martyr serves no one well, and your stubbornness is outmatched in this instance. So the matter is now whether you will willingly allow me to heal your wounds, or if I need to wait until Cassandra is here to assist me. I’m sure the Seeker would be more than willing to help to see to the Herald of Andraste’s health.” 

Solas was intimidating, Echo realized as her eyes clashed against the slate blue ones that bored into hers unflinchingly. There was something about his face. The shape of his eyes filled with such jaded shadows like an elf in his prime who had seen the dark side of life too often. Her first instinct was too deny the help. She could take care of herself, but she didn’t know Solas well enough to know if he was truly bluffing here. And the last thing she wanted was to be held down like a two year old afraid of a needle in front of the War Council. What a lovely impression that would make. 

“Alright. Fine, you win,” sighed Echo, hands dropped from her hips. 

The hard lines of his mouth barely yielded at her surrender. “I think,” he said, in a lordly voice, “that you ought to have a seat. It shall make tending to your wounds less difficult.” 

Echo cocked her head at Solas in a way that bespoke of an ill-behaved thought before she walked over to the war table. She placed her palms on the edge, and pulled herself up. She settled her backside down, and swung her legs idly. She scooted so that her back faced the side of the table, and would give Solas easier access to her wounds. It was a meek attempt at rebellion, but she would not be her if she surrendered easily. 

Varric smothered a smile, giving Solas an exasperated look. “Mockingbird isn’t one to make things easy,” he told the elf in a conspiratorial whisper. 

A mirthless smile fell over Solas’s lips. “So I can see,” he commented, the pitch of his voice low and grim. He approached her without an ounce of hesitation, and pulled her cloak from free from her shoulders. His fingertips ghosted to the hem of her shirt before he lifted it, carefully. The front of her shirt tugged up and caught on the edge of her breast band, showing half of her mid-drift, but keeping some of her modesty. 

Though Echo didn’t give a lick about modesty in that moment. There was no way to avoid Solas having to pull the back of her tunic in order to see her wounds, and she hissed through clenched teeth as his fingertips delicately pressed against the sore, sensitive flesh. She knew frostbite was an ugly thing, and knew if Cassandra hadn’t stepped in the way her wounds would have been more severe. 

“This skin has been damaged. This is no mere exposure to the elements,” Solas mused, quietly to himself. “The position of it seems almost deliberate as if it were an attack.” 

“We encountered a despair demon,” Echo answered, the unasked question. “It caught me off guard.” 

Varric’s eyes widened. “Shit. Bet that hurt.” 

A crease formed along his brow, and Solas’s jaw ticked. A single demon was unlikely to be spawned from a rift. Too many demons and spirits clamored where the veil pulled thin as it was. If a rift occurred, Solas reasoned, then more would have been pulled through. A solitary demon meant it had been pulled by a different way, and Solas gently raked a healing spell down the patch of reddened flesh. “I’m beginning to believe, da’len, that you getting such wounds will become habitual,” he commented, his tone measured. He held his palms no more than the thickness of his fingers away from her back, and his hands tingled with the power the spell. 

Echo’s breath fluttered in her lungs, and she clenched her jaw tightly. Each pass of his hands across her wound stirred the air, stimulated her mana as it caressed her skin until she felt as if she glowed with starlight. _This feeling could easily become addicting,_ she acknowledged, a bit lightheaded. She was mentally thankful that were wounds weren’t worse because if Solas poured any more magic into that healing spell, Echo wasn’t sure she could be held responsible for what she would do. “Yeah, I should have warned you,” Echo teased, with a strained smile. Her shoulder slumped with relief when Solas’s hand finally pulled away, and the fabric of her tunic fell back down. “I have this nasty habit of getting myself into…distressing situations.” 

“And most of them aren’t even from battles,” Varric divulged, with a snort. “She can be terribly clumsy. Fell down the stairs in the Viscount’s Keep one time. Thought the seneschal was going to heart attack over it.” 

Her face turned as a ripe as a tomato, and she gave Varric a glare. “One time I trip, and I never live it down.” 

“You fell down in the forest, too,” Mahanon recalled. 

Echo gave him a dirty look. 

Mahanon coughed, awkwardly. “Well, you did.” 

“A soreness may linger, but the skin has healed. You were in lucky that it had not reached any deeper, or your spine could have been greatly harmed,” Solas scolded, with a prickly deposition. 

“Thank you, Solas,” Echo said, delicately. “It seems to have fallen to you to help piece me back together. Despite my obstinate behavior, I am grateful for that.” 

Solas merely dipped his head in acknowledgment, but his expression did not yield nor soften. His blue eyes were hard with discontent, and no mere platitudes would alleviate it. 

Echo felt like a child underneath such scrutiny, and she had to look away from Solas in order to stifle the guilty that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. 

“Now what was this about a despair demon?” Varric said, with a sharp flourish of his hand. “And what does it have to do with our Dalish friend here?” 

“It…it controlled me,” Mahanon replied, ashamed. “It demented my thoughts, and if I had not been stopped…” He dropped his chin, and his fists clenched in his lap. “If I had not been stopped, I would have taken my own life.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” Echo countered, a knit in her bow. “You fought it, Mahanon. You _were_ fighting. Many would have given up by the time I found you, but you held on. That’s what counts.” 

“Does it really?” Mahanon asked, troubled. “What if my thoughts weren’t just because of the demon? What if it just brought up what was already inside my head? A darkness that had been inside me all along?” 

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself before today? Before the despair demon got to you?” Echo asked, lightly. 

“I…I had moments where I was sad, but no, never had I thought to kill myself,” Mahanon admitted, rubbing his sweating hands against his pants. 

“Then they weren’t your thoughts,” Echo concluded, her arms pulled close around her stomach. She could not keep her hands still, no matter how hard she tried. Her finger trembled, and curled against the fabric of her tunic. Her nails caught the twine; the feeling of it set her teeth on edge, and her shoulders rose with a immense breath. 

“How do you know?” Mahanon asked, desperately. 

“Because…” Echo blew out a great huff of air, and raked her fingers through her hair to loosen the tangles that were there. “Because once upon a time, I tried to kill myself to. And I can tell you that it didn’t just come to me one day out of the blue. It started softly, and slowly. Pestered me endlessly for months before I even dared attempted it. These thoughts…they weren’t yours. Know it, and confront it then you can conquer it.” 

Solas stilled, his breath vanished in his lungs. Grief blossomed in his chest for the child in those mismatched eyes—the deep, dark memory of a time of pain and doubt that still haunted the woman before him. Questions stirred in the base of his throat, but not one of them was uttered. He did not have her confidence to ask her such things, and he had no doubt she’d lash out like a wounded animal if dared to pry. Echo Harper was a woman whose trust was earn through a great deal of time and patience. She did not gladly surrender her secrets, and Solas had not found such a challenge in a great time. He had this urge to peel back each of her layers, and discover the depths she had so carefully hidden. 

Varric looked stricken as if Echo had set Bianca on fire, and called his chest hair flaxen and unmanly. There was such a brutal sadness on his face, and he didn’t say a word. He had seen Echo drift through Hawke’s mansion from time to time, silent as a ghost with a distant gaze. It was like she was looking down at the edge of the abyss, and wondering if it was time to jump. He had chalked it up to loneliness, and being out of place so he did his best to draw her out of her shell. He had just never known how deep those scars she hid had ran. 

Mahanon’s mouth dropped open. At first, he stared at her doing an impression of a bewildered owl, and then his lips opened. The words cracked against his tongue, and died before they reached his lips. Emotion constricted his throat, and choked him at the horrible, knowing look in her gaze. He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a blade. It scraped all the way down, and stabbed into his gut, sharp and unforgiving. 

The war room doors opened ending a chance for more words to be said, and Cassandra walked into the room followed by the Commander and Spymaster. Echo lifted her head to greet them. “Sister Leliana, Commander,” she said, her tone benign. “I see that Josephine is not with us.” 

“She would like me to extend her condolences, but her evening has been claimed by visiting nobility,” Leliana replied, smoothly. 

Echo winced, sympathetically. “I don’t envy her job.” 

A faint smile pulled at Cullen’s lips. “Neither do I. Though as thrilling as discussing the mutual distaste for nobility—bar Leliana—I believe we are here to discuss more important matters,” the Commander said, warily. He looked as if he had been roused from a restless slumber, and had his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed Mahanon with a cautious look. “It appears that all is well?” 

“You haven’t told them?” Echo sent Cassandra a curious look. 

“I have not. I do not like having to repeat myself,” Cassandra stated, her tone simple and straight forward. “I see that Solas is already here, and Varric has seen fit to invite himself.” 

“I thought I’d spare you the trouble of tracking me down and dragging me around this time, Seeker,” Varric smirked. 

Cassandra spared him a glower then looked back towards Echo. “Has Solas already examined Mahanon?” The Seeker asked, the corner of her eyes tightened. 

Solas’s gaze darted between the pair, and he was curious as to what they wanted him to check for exactly. His flinty gaze fell upon the Dalish elf, and his head cocked to the side. Mahanon was not a mage; the Fade did not flutter or pull around him. Solas mused at the familiar features that were wholly alien to him at the same moment. The vallaslin—his heart lurched, sick at the sight of the brands—of the Dalish yet his skittish mannerisms were unlike the brutish and obdurate nature of his kinsmen. There was something about his behavior that called upon a distant memory, and a cold stone settled into the apostate’s stomach. 

“No. We were waiting for you to return with Cullen as you requested,” Echo informed her. She saw something loosen in the Seeker’s posture, and perhaps a brief glimmer of gratitude cross Right Hand’s face. 

“Good,” Cassandra nodded. She shut the war room door, and the noise had a finality to it that seemed to encompass everyone in the room. “As you know, we went after the Dalish elf to prevent him from harming himself or others. What we found however, was more disturbing than originally imagined.” 

Echo shifted, putting herself between Mahanon and the others in the room. She saw the way he stared cagily at everything and everyone in the room. There was no source of comfort for him to draw upon, save perhaps knowing that she was on his side. If he truly believed that or not, Echo wasn’t sure. 

“How so?” Leliana asked, with a frown. 

“Mahanon’s outbursts were not just the cause of grief,” Echo spoke up, and took upon herself to divulge the severity of what happened in the forest. “In his emotional state, he was preyed upon by…a demon.” 

The very word seemed to vacuum all the air and noise right out of the room. Genuine surprise sprang across Leliana’s face while Cullen went as still as a statue. Varric mumbled a curse, and shook his head. Solas blinked hard, his countenance went from pleasant to like the cold face of the mountain in a second flat. Mahanon shifted in his seat, the legs creaked underneath him and he ducked his head when looks were shot his way. 

“A demon?” Leliana’s voice was harsh with shock. 

“Yes,” Cassandra nodded. “Mahanon was not the demon’s first victim. We found four bodies, but…with the recent snow fall, there could be more hidden beneath.” 

The Commander leaned against the war table, his palms flat against the wooden surface and his shoulder taunt like a lion about to pounce. “Was there another rift? In the forest?” Cullen asked, his golden eyes went from Cassandra to Echo. 

“No, there…there was no rift,” Echo swallowed, thickly. “Cassandra fears this means that the demon was the work of…blood magic performed by some in or near Haven.” 

Cullen’s face went absolutely bloodless and he looked as if had been stabbed in the gut. “Maker’s breath,” he growled out, and ran a rough palm down his face. “We’ll check the mages here. Make sure the threat isn’t within our very gates.” 

Varric frowned. “Are we sure that’s wise? The Templars and mages that are still here in Haven are about at their boiling point. Doing this might make the situation worse.” 

“Varric is right. This could easily turn into a witch hunt, and that is something we can’t afford to do,” Echo said, worriedly. “We’ll be no better than the Chantry, and that is something we don’t want, right?” 

Cassandra’s expression tightened. “We will not persecute anyone without cause.” 

“Forgive us, Seeker,” Varric said, dryly. “There’s centuries worth of history that speaks to the contrary. If you really want the Inquisition do better than the Circles and the Chantry, perhaps you shouldn’t start by making the same old mistakes.” 

“Yes, that would be a good start,” Echo added, heatedly. 

Cullen released an aggravated noise in the back of his throat. “And we should not investigate into the matter? We cannot let a dangerous mage willing to summon demons run about killing people,” the Commander said, roughly. 

“That is not what was said,” Echo defended, glaring daggers at him. “You think I want someone out there killing people? Or do you suppose since I’m an apostate I’m biased? Of course, we should investigate this matter, but we can’t blame the many for the actions of the few. Making blind accusation or interrogating people without cause won’t win us any favors.” 

“You have reservations about us checking the mages?” Leliana cocked her head to the side, and lifted a brow. 

“Oh, I have many,” Echo said, with a sarcastic laugh. “But just because I’m an apostate by your Chantry’s laws and would rather live without a cage does not mean I’m ignorant of the dangers here. If a blood mage is summon demons to attack this village, than it needs to be stopped.” 

Leliana’s eyes reflected the torchlight, and gave none of her thoughts away. After a long pause, she nodded slightly. “If it must been done, then we do it discretely and without incident,” Leliana commented, shrewdly. “I could have my scouts look into the matter.” 

Solas’s lips thinned out, and his brow wrinkled. He did not like such a plan, at all. If blood magic was at work then the Inquisition would see it rooted out, and while he was not opposed entirely to blood magic, the way it was used here was abominable. Whatever had been done had twisted a spirit of Hope into a withering and ravenous demon of despair, and Solas had no sympathy for a fumbling fool that had done such a horrid thing as that. “If I may suggest an alternative? I believe that there may be a simpler way to find the answers we seek, then to potentially ostracize with the few mages that have sought Haven as shelter.” 

“We’ll hear any alternative,” Cassandra told him. 

Solas inclined his head, gratefully. “I believe the answer to this debacle may lie within Mahanon himself,” Solas spoke up, his blue eyes flickered to the very nervous Dalish elf. “Blood magic that binds a demon leaves a mark on the inflicted—a taint on the victim’s mind that may give an insight into just how this creature was summoned.” 

“I’ve never heard of such magics,” Cassandra said, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m not surprised,” Solas said, genially. “Any knowledge of it was likely band from your circles, just like many other arcane arts that the Chantry felt were too dangerous.” 

“Is it dangerous?” Leliana posed the questioned. 

“Only to someone who does not know what they are doing. It is a simple spell, and will not take a great deal of time,” said Solas, with a half smile. He had the impression the spymaster did not care for, and that was most likely because his story was one hard to prove or disprove. She feared a fox in the henhouse, but she would never know the true depths of the predator that circled around the Inquisition. 

“Do it,” Mahanon said, immediately. 

Echo looked over at him. “Mahanon, are you sure?” 

“Yes,” the Dalish elf said. “I want him to do it. If they can find who did this…” he gritted his teeth together, and his nails dug into the underside of the chair. “I want that person to be stopped. My sorrow was mine. My feelings were mine. That demon changed that, and I don’t…I don’t want anyone to feel like that.” 

The Commander drew in a long steady breath, and his gaze was downcast. Echo glanced over at him, feeling the tension vibrating off of him. A worried feeling stirred in her chest, though she shook off the best she could. “Alright, Solas,” she said, with a nod towards the apostate. “Do your spell.” 

There were fractures left in a spirit after a demon attacked a person’s mind. Almost like the web-like lines in a sheet of broken glass, and as Solas lifted his hands to either side of Mahanon’s face, he immediately felt them. Sharp and cutting if one was too careful, and the pain vibrated through the Dalish elf’s soul like thunder through a dying storm. The wounds were fresh, Solas managed to tell, but what caused them was something old. Something that had been here for a long, long time. 

“He is of sound mind, and shall recover from the attack given time. The linger trace is very faint,” Solas said, a frown creased his brow as he pulled his hands from Mahanon’s face. “What spell brought this demon here is old, and was cast long ago.” 

Mahanon slumped, visibly relieved there was nothing wrong with him. He placed his head in his hands, and his chest shuddered. Varric patted the Dalish elf’s shoulder, a quick and comforting gesture. 

“How long ago?” Echo questioned, pressing her palm to her aching temple. The worry was lifted only a feather’s weight, but it was enough to allow her to breathe. 

“Nearly a decade. The demon was most likely summoned near Haven, or in Haven. It was left behind, forgotten, in a weaken state until recent events,” Solas informed them, a rigid tilt to his lips. “With the all the death cause in the wake of the Conclave, it stirred from wherever it had hidden away.” 

“And was a glutton at a feast,” Cullen said, his face twisted in disgust and revulsion. “With all the sorrow and despair in the air, it would have feasted well.” 

“And gained strength from it,” Echo said, feeling sick. Her thoughts swirled in her mind a mile a second, and she placed a quivering hand over her stomach. “In the midst of the chaos, it could have claimed victims unchecked. Another dead body would be overlooked. After everything calmed? It had to lure it’s victims out or risk being discovered.” 

“Exactly so. Sadly, I believe whomever did this would most likely be long gone by now,” Solas responded, quietly. 

Cullen sighed. “That is not a comforting thought,” the Commander stated, raking a hand down his neck. “That demon killed four people before unwittingly stumbled upon, and if it had not been for the Herald’s determination to track Mahanon into the forest then it could have easily been five. While the maleficar that did this may have already be long gone from Haven, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat to somebody else.” 

“There’s nothing that can be done about that, if it is as Solas’s claims,” Cassandra spoke, her expression all too weary. “We have not the time nor the man power to search, nor a place to start.” 

Leliana had a thoughtful frown on her face. “If the spell that summon the demon is several years old, it may be a remnant from the people that once lived in Haven. The Chantry was once led by a bloodmage who the town looked to as Father Eirik.” 

“Father Eirik? I wasn’t aware there was such a title in the Chantry,” Echo looked rather confused. 

“There isn’t. The people of the town held strange beliefs, especially when it came to Andraste,” Cassandra said, with a shake of her head. “But it would not surprise me if this was left behind by them. The Seekers came here shortly after the Blight, and what was written in their reports was disturbing to say the least.” 

“And by disturbing you mean?” Varric prompted. 

Cassandra shared a quick look with Leliana before she heaved a heavy sigh. “It is well documented that the Hero of Ferelden made her way here in search of the Sacred Ashes to heal Arl Eamon. She and her companions faced the cult killing their leaders, Kolgrim and the Fahter Eirik, along with several others.” 

“There were survivors left behind, and given the murders the cult committed to keep Haven a secret it was no surprise that the Divine ordered an investigation,” Leliana spoke, her voice very soft. There was a faraway look in her eyes as if she were recalling a very different time. “When they arrived, they were not greeted warmly, but the breaking point came when the Templars discovered a couple of villagers were apostates. They were forced by law to take them to a Circle, and what followed left more than couple dead. There were also the signs of ritual sacrificing, and blood magic then.” 

“Ritual killing? Blood magic? The Maker has a sick sense of irony here, if you think about it,” Varric commented, scratching the end of his chin. “That the resting place of Andraste’s ashes be steeped in death and tragedy and horror? That kind of messed up even by my standards, and given my imagination that’s saying something.” 

The tension that moved down her spine, broke, and Echo looked at her dwarven friend. “Varric, I just love the way you can offend a whole room of people and do it with a smile,” Echo told him, fondly. 

“What can I say?” Varric shrugged. “It’s a gift.” 

“Ugh,” was Cassandra’s reply. 

“Could one of those mages from Haven have returned after the Circle fell? Maybe they knew about the demon and help stir it back up?” Cullen pondered, a weighty scowl on his brow. 

“How would we even check such a thing? If any circle mage here was from Haven originally, I doubt they would fess up whether guilty or not,” Echo commented, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That isn’t exactly the kind of things one wants to be remembered for, or be linked to.” 

“Do the Circles not keep records?” Solas questioned. 

“The records from the Circles are unreliable now. Most have been destroyed or stolen. Phylacteries shattered. If the Templars still have any, they are unlikely to share,” Cassandra said, with a hefty breath. 

Leliana hummed underneath her breath. “I might know someone who could help us. She is a Circle Mage by the name of Wynne. When the Circles started to rebel, she did her best to protect all that she could, but she was not in the best of health even before then. I am uncertain if she is still lives,” Leliana stated, a slightly worried edge to her voice. “I could spare a few scouts, but the answers will not immediate. It will take time.” 

Echo nodded, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “Then do it,” she said, despite the knot of worry that lingered inside of her. 

“We could also just ask the mages how long they’ve been in the Circles. If it’s more or less than a decade, we could rule them out as suspects,” Varric pointed out. 

“And you think the mages would be willing to tell?” Cassandra asked, doubtfully. 

“Seeker, you’d be surprised what mages let loose when they’ve been plied with a little ale,” the dwarf stated. “They’re light weights.” 

“Mages aren’t traditionally allowed alcohol in the Circle,” Cullen stated, absentmindedly. He had a hard stare pinned on the map, and tapped a knuckle against his chin. “There was an incident about fifty years ago where a mage flew into a drunken rage. Needless to say, it was banned shortly after. First Enchanters were allowed concession from time to time.” 

“Not allowed to drink? No wonder they rebelled,” Varric snorted. “Just leave it to me. A couple of drink, a few card games, and I’ll have their life stories before you know.” 

“If you are looking for a vote of confidence, I’m not giving you one,” Cassandra told him, flatly. 

“Oh, Seeker, you wound me,” Varric said, not losing an ounce of his smirk. 

“It seems that is the best we can do at present,” Cullen frowned. 

Cullen’s words seemed to draw the meeting to a close, and Cassandra and Leliana were the first to leave. Cullen lingered to study the map while Echo approached Mahanon who had been most quiet throughout the majority of the meeting. “Do you have any where to sleep tonight?” She asked, lightly. 

“I’m not sure,” Mahanon replied, hesitantly. “I would go back to the healer’s tents, but fear I would be unwelcome. I suppose I could see if there is spare tent somewhere else.” 

“I don’t think you being alone is a good idea,” Echo told him, her tone cautious. “The demon is dead, but you are still whirling from what happened. You _shouldn’t_ have to be alone right now.” 

Mahanon sighed. “I suppose you are right, but I don’t see many people willing to put up with a strange Dalish elf. Especially after…what has happened,” he said, with a downtrodden look. 

“Well, you are in luck,” Varric stepped forward. “I happen to have a soft spot for strange Dalish elves. In fact, let me tell you about my friend, Daisy…” 

Echo watched with equal parts of relief and amusement as Varric immediately took Mahanon under his wing. For all his sarcastic, dry wit, Varric had a bigger heart than he ever willing let on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solas step beside her. “Solas, I was wondering if you would check on Mahanon again?” Echo asked, quietly. 

Solas narrowed his eyes slightly. “You doubt my findings?” 

“No, I believe you. I am just worried that once rumors spread that problems will arise,” Echo stated, wrapping her arms loosely around her midsection. “I want no room for doubt on this. Elves are easy targets for aggression. Dalish elves most of all.” 

The crease in Solas’s brow softened with understanding. “Very well. I shall see to it first thing in the morning,” said the apostate, tautly. “I wish to have a word with you, if you have a moment you can spare?” 

Echo hesitated, then she nodded. “I can spare a moment,” she said, faintly. She picked up her cloak from where it sat upon the war table, and offered the Commander a quick, polite goodbye. “What is it that you exactly wish to discuss?” She asked Solas, as they made their way towards the Chantry exit. “I know you harbor some ire over my wounds.” 

“It is not the injuries themselves that has my ire, but how they came to be. You cannot afford to be so reckless, or careless with yourself,” Solas spoke, his tone sharp and scolding. His expression was still as if carved from stone, and the afternoon light caress the contours of his face. 

“Was I supposed to leave Mahanon in that forest?” Echo countered, her voice rose with disbelief. Her different colored eyes fixing him in a chilly stare. 

“Of course not, but perhaps you should have left the matter in more capable hands,” Solas retorted, archly. Her impertinence should have made him more irate than her indifference for her life, and yet he was strangled pleased by it. 

Echo’s lips pursed tightly together, the blush painted by the chilled air on her smooth cheeks deepened at the slight. “I may not be a warrior, but that does not mean I’m defenseless. I’m far from some invalid who doesn’t know how to handle danger when presented with it,” she told him, tartly. 

“I believe your wounds tell a very contrary story,” Solas smiled, thinly. 

Her nostrils flared. “Did you want to talk to me to merely berate me, or do you actually have a point that you will get to, Solas?” She asked, her tone very quiet. She was tempted to leave him where he stood. She was too tired to have the patience to deal with a lecture right this moment. 

“The mark has fundamentally changed your life, perhaps more than you’ve come to grasp. Such power has a price, one that cannot be forsworn,” Solas stated, his countenance very grave. “It is as of now the only thing that can seal the Breach, and without it all hope is lost. Without you, all hope is lost.” 

“Cassandra expressed the same concern,” hedged Echo, her eyes looked up at the clear sky. The snowstorm had lifted, and the clouds were far away. The sun trailed closer and closer to the horizon, and within the hour everything would be covered in a blanket of darkness. “If I die then the mark is lost, and that cannot happen. I understand that.” 

“Then you realize that you actions today were foolish?” Solas questioned, sharply. His blue eyes bore into the side of her face with a scorching intensity. “When Edric was slain by the Pride demon, all of us watched the end of hope. It is a crushing experience, and the Breach swallowing the world seemed like a cruel certainty.” 

His nearness stirred a turbulence inside of her that was impossible ascertain or control. It took an act of willpower not to shrink away. She felt the unease unfold in her heart, and the guilt that she had stowed away, burned in her throat. Her fingers rolled up, and her knuckles pressed down against the mark. She couldn’t bear the weight of his severe gaze, and turned her face away, swallowing thickly. 

“And then you came, an unexpected light in such dark despair. I felt the whole world shift, and change in that moment,” whispered Solas, a mute wonder in his tone. “All hope was _not_ lost. The world was spared because of you, but the threat is far from over. You cannot run head first into danger as if your life doesn’t matter. It couldn’t matter _more_ than it does now.” 

Echo’s lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she was rendered speechless. Her eyebrows drew together, her eyes flickered to his then darted away. She stared at the crystal specs in the snow as the sunlight danced across it, stealing the solace of that moment to think very hard. Taking a deep breath, her shoulders slumped from the ridged line they had made upon her back. “You’re right,” whispered Echo, the pulse in her jaw thumped wildly. When she had been pinned down by the despair demon, Cassandra’s words rang in her ears as clear as day. The weight of the world was on her shoulders, and every movement she made would be scrutinized. Emotion hit her fast, hard, and it seized her throat in a vice grip that would not relent. “I can’t act like nothing has changed. Everything has changed, and there is no take backs.” 

His icy demeanor thawed slightly after he eyed her with an air of weighing the truthfulness of her words, and then relaxed, satisfied she truly meant it. He had not intended to be so harsh, or cold. Yet he could not reign such emotions in when the Breach bore down upon them from the sky. If she were to falter, or fall, then everything would be for naught. He could not allow that to happen. She could not be allowed to let that happen. “No, there is not,” he replied, his voice solemn and soundless. 

She felt the taunt feeling in the air slump, and dissipate. They stood there in silent solidarity, both lost in their own thoughts when Echo placed a hand to her forehead lightly. A small chuckle of amusement rolled through her when a sudden thought occurred to her. 

Solas’s brow ticked upward. “And what have you found such amusement in, I wonder?” He asked, with a thin smile. 

Echo bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “Nothing. I just thought that you and my friend, Ashlinn, would have gotten along splendidly. She always knew how to make me face things that I needed to, even if I didn’t want to.” 

“Was she the one that stopped you from taking your own life?” Solas questioned, the blueness of his eyes swept down the melancholy that settled upon her face. 

A look of surprise was followed by a sad laugh. “Very perceptive of you,” she stated, almost inaudibly. 

“I try,” Solas smiled, subtly. 

“Yes. She was the one saved me from myself when I was at my lowest.” Echo stared at Haven from the Chantry steps with an almost forlorn smile touching her the edge of her lips. “She would have _loved_ this place. She was enamored with the idea of traveling, you know? She read books on it, and would go hiking whenever she could. She would always get us lost,” she laughed, shaking her head in amusement. “Always get us off the trail, and stuck in the middle of nowhere, fluttering from one thing to the next with this never ending wonder and awe over everything. And then somehow after she was done she would always find the path again like we never left it.” 

“You miss her,” Solas commented, carefully. Soft, wisps of hair pressed lovingly against the side of her cheek, and even though she did not face him directly, he could still make out the morose slant of her brow. Lost in memories of another time; Solas understood the pull of the past. 

“I _do_ miss her,” Echo nodded, softly. If there was one thing she missed from home more than anything it was Ashlinn who was her sister in everything, but blood. They had been friends since they were six years old, and nearly inseparable. Where one went the other was always bound to follow. “I haven’t thought about her in a long time, but with all these…with all that happened today, I can’t help, but to wish she were here at my side. Heaven knows, she would handle this better than I would because she was just so _unafraid_ of what the world threw at her.” 

“You sound like you idolize her,” Solas commented, his head tilted to the side. 

“A little bit, I suppose. I was always a bit envious of her, too,” Echo smiled, softly. “She held herself to this standard that she didn’t expect from anyone else, and if she couldn’t adhere to it, then she punished herself more harshly than anyone else could. She was this giving soul, and would give anything to make sure no one ever felt the level of sadness that she did. Didn’t mean she was push over. No, Ash gave as good as she got, if not better. And she had this knack for knowing things,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face with a slight laugh. “You couldn’t fool her. She was so aware of herself, and everything and everyone around her that she could spot anyone trying to bullshit her from a mile away. She always saw the truth behind the lie, and not just any truth, but she saw _your_ truth.” 

Echo brushed her hair out of her face, and drew in the cold air slowly. She gave Solas an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ve practically talked your ears off and kept you out here in the cold probably longer than you intended.” 

“If I found it disagreeable, da’len, I would have let you know by now. It is understandable that you have a lot on you have a lot on your mind,” Solas allowed, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath. “Besides, as I told you before if I can ease your worries by lending an ear, then I would be all too glad to do so.” 

Echo suppressed a smile. “A male who is willing to listen to a woman complain? Especially after a verbal spar like that? My, my, what a rare breed you are,” she chuckled, lightly. The gentle mirth, too brief, came and went from her face. Her crooked smile melted away into a deep melancholy; the thoughts and feelings she had tried to outrun sinking their claws deep. “I will do my best to heed your wisdom, Solas, though I can’t promise to stay out of trouble. I’m afraid that will find me regardless of how careful I endeavor to be.” 

He inclined his head. “An unfortunate truth that.” 

Solas started down the steps, and Echo fell in step alongside of him. Their cabins after all were adjacent from each other, and truth was despite their minor argument earlier, Echo wasn’t ready to be left alone with her thoughts. Not just yet. 

“What about you, Solas? What was your home like?” She felt compelled to fill the silence that stretched between them. In this moment, such soundlessness grated upon her nerves and made her want to scream to fill it. 

Something in his gaze shuttered. “Why do you wish to know?” 

“Just curiosity. I feel that you know so much of me, yet I know next of nothing about you,” Echo smiled, the curve of her lips an enthralling sight. 

His vacuous expression eased when he saw no deception on her part. “Forgive me, with such fear in the air,” his voice softened into a more mild tone, his eyes flickered across the unfamiliar faces that passed them by. He pondered the question for longer than necessary, determining what was safe to reveal and what was not. “I grew up in a village to the north. So small and unremarkable that it does not appear on any map, but those who passed through missed the hidden wonders that I found in my youthful. A small passage that laid on the outskirts of the village that led to an enclosed part of the woods. Vibrant flowers with petals painted purple and blues grew in the rich soil there, and glowed underneath the moonlight. Plants and animals thrived around the waterfall that came from the cliff above from a underground spring, I suspect. It was a place where I could go to gather my thoughts, awake or dreaming.” 

“It sounds beautiful,” Echo said, gently. She understood the pride and yearning that flowed from his every word. She remembered impossibly tall trees, and the smell of wet leaves upon the forest floor as she ran through the woods with bare feet. Echoes of joyous laughter, she recalled as clear as day, where her and Ashlinn played heroes slaying mighty foes and saving the day. 

“It was beautiful,” Solas couldn’t hide the pang of longing that crept into his voice like a thief in the night. Even the stern expression he used so diligently as protection could not hide it. 

“Will you go back? To your home?” Echo asked, taking in his profile from the corner of her eye. 

It was unlikely, Solas thought to himself. His home, his village had long since been withered by time and wars raged over centuries. It was likely nothing more than ruins and rumble. The beauty of it smothered, and it would feel more like a tomb than the home he longed for. “Perhaps, but I shall not take my leave until the Breach is closed,” 

Tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear, Echo shifted on her heels towards him ever so slightly. “Was that ever in doubt?” She questioned, perplexed. 

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry supporters,” Solas commented, the callous contempt that he had for the Chantry’s views clear in his voice. “And unlike yourself, I do not bear a magical mark to protect me. It would be only a matter of time before they forced me into a Circle, or something of the like.” 

“You helped us despite the great risk to yourself, Solas,” Echo told him, earnestly. If it was in her power, there wouldn’t be such things like the Circles ever again. They did not work, and trying to resurrect them would only breed more resent and hatred down the line. She may not have peacekeeping skills, or particularly keen on politics, but she knew that. “I wouldn’t let anyone use that against you.” 

A sardonic smile pulled his lips. “And what would you do to stop them?” 

“Anything I had to,” Echo told him, strongly. Her hand came to her mouth after the words were said, color rose swiftly to her cheeks. She was stunned by the vehemence of her tone. Solas also wore shock on his face, and seemed rendered speechless just as she was. Despite the surprise, Echo found that she truly meant her words. She would see that no chains befall him, nor any other mage for just having the ability of magic. “Good afternoon, Solas,” she said, after a prolonged silence and turned towards her cabin hoping that hoping to hide her embarrassment before it grew too much. She almost made it when a hand caught her wrist. 

Echo jolted at the touch, whirling back towards him with wide eyes. His thumb pressed flat against her fluttering pulse, and she shivered in the cold gust of wind. 

“Thank you. I…” He paused for a second then continued. “I fear I must apologize for my tone earlier,” Solas felt the need to ask forgiveness of her before they would parted ways. Her recklessness—as he had so callous called it—was not intentionally. Especially because of her words, her ready to defend him regardless of him treating her like a child only moments ago. It had stunned him, shocked him to his core. He had not had anyone to stand in his defense in a long time, and her She had a charitable and large heart hidden beneath her stubborn and sarcastic nature that spurred her to be so protective of people, even those she hardly knew. “The harshness I treated you with was unplanned, but that does not excuse it. The words were ones I felt needed to be said, but I could have chosen to speak them differently.” 

Echo felt like she swallowed her tongue, and lost her senses. Her skin tingled when he drew across the back of her hand before he released her. It was puzzling that she had such a reaction. She hadn’t ever had a reaction to anyone like this before, and knew not what to make of it. “It’s a stressful time for everyone,” she spoke, with a quivering smile. “I completely understand. There is no need to seek forgiveness.” 

“Still I would ask it of you,” Solas stated, resolutely. His words may have been true, but he let his own fears color his words. He let his own sense of failure that swelled each time he looked upon the broken sky, and even though it was not him who tore it open. He had facilitated it. His own foolish choices allowed it to happen. Echo Harper was his only hope of remedying that, and if the world fell, then there was no hope to restore it to what it once was. 

“Then you have it,” Echo gave him a lopsided grin. 

His full lips drew into a smile. “Thank you.” 

“Have a good evening, Solas,” she bid him, the cold becoming too much to bear. The joints in her hands were stiff, and she longed for the warmth of the hearth. He inclined then quietly wished her same, before they retreated to their respective cabins. 

Echo shut the door behind her, and was grateful for warmth of the in doors. Her eyes narrowed at the fire that was already crackling in the fireplace, and a voice came behind her as she reached up to collar of her cloak, “Echo.” 

Echo stiffened, halted in the motion to pull her cloak off. Her eyes lifted, and fell upon Flissa who stood on the other side of the cabin. The warm air of the fire was no longer a comfort as a cold feeling rolled in the pit of her stomach. “Flissa,” she replied, wetting her chapped lips. She finished unclasping her cloak, and draped it over the back of the chair. 

Flissa took a step forward, then retreated as if she thought better of it. With one arm wrapped around her stomach, the other fiddled with the necklace around her neck. “I was going to tell you,” she stated, her voice barely more than a whisper. “After everyone found out about your mark. Before you stilled the Breach, there didn’t seem a reason for you to know. I mean, I’ve been working for her for nearly a decade, and…it never came up.” 

“Until the Conclave,” Echo’s jaw tensed, the teeth gnashing unpleasantly together. She drew in a long, slow breath and tried to reason that everyone was entitled to their pasts. To their lives, but the sting of betrayal didn’t lessen in her gut. “Were you the one to tell her I was an apostate?” Echo asked, carefully. 

“No! No,” Flissa denied, horrified that Echo thought that. “She…she suspected. She recognized your name from Kirkwall.” 

Echo absorbed that with a small nod. She had thought she was safe in anonymity, that her name was nothing to raise suspicions, but apparently the spymaster had a long, long memory. Longer and more lethal than Echo had given the spymaster credit for. A mistake she wouldn’t make a second time with Sister Leliana, a luxury few were afforded. “Well, that is something,” Echo replied, tonelessly. 

Flissa hesitated. Her hands curled into light fists that hung at her side, and she looked at her belongs that were packed into a bag upon her cot then swallowed, heavily. “I won’t be here long,” she assured, her tone faint. “I was merely packing.” 

“Packing?” Echo asked, confusion rang in her voice. 

“I just thought…it would be best if I left the cabin,” Flissa explained, lamely. “With all that’s happened, and you probably need privacy more now than ever.” 

Echo didn’t want that. She wanted her friend. She wanted to know that she could trust Flissa, but she didn’t know that. Her throat bobbed, her eyes darting all around the cabin as she summoned the courage to speak again. “Probably,” she said, lightly. “Have you already found other lodging?” 

“Yes,” Flissa assured, half-heartedly. “I’ve got a nice set up in the back room of the Tavern. It’ll be better for me, anyways. Demands for food and drink have gone up with all the interest…events has garnered. Barely have time to think, let alone sleep anymore.” 

“I’m glad business is good,” Echo nodded. She was at a loss for what to say. She was trying so hard to be angry at Flissa, but was failing miserably at it. She didn’t want to say words in the heat of the moment that she would come to regret later. She didn’t want to damage their friendship that already needed mending, so she chose the cold shoulder routine. 

Flissa frowned, saddened by what she found in Echo’s expression. “Is it always going to be like this? From now on? Is our friendship…going to be stained by the fact I worked for Nightingale?” 

A shaky breath slipped through her lips. “I don’t know,” Echo replied, honestly. “I hope not. I don’t want it to be like that, but right now? It hurts. More than I thought it would. I…I just need some time to get over the shock, then maybe…” 

Flissa nodded, woodenly. “Alright. I suppose I would need time if the roles were reversed,” she said, quietly. She turned to grab her bags, and crossed the cabin. The floor boards creaked ever so slightly, and Flissa whispered a good-bye that was nearly as silent as the closing of the door behind her. 

Echo felt a knot swell in the back of her throat, and the burning pinprick sensation that needled at her eyes. She closed them tightly, and dropped her head into her hands. 

* * *

The next morning, Echo found herself at the Chantry’s door before the sun had fully rose over the horizon, and that way too earlier. She felt nothing remotely like a person. More like a zombie, except with no desire to eat flesh. _Great, I just grossed myself out,_ Echo thought, choking back her gag reflex. With a shudder down her spine, she entered the Chantry. Her eyes fell upon Cassandra who loitered near the entrance, probably waiting on her to arrive. “Good morning, Seeker,” she greeted, after she suppressed a yawn. 

“It is a morning,” Cassandra stated, with a slight smile. “Whether is it a good or not remains to be seen.” Side by side, they started up aisle and her dark eyes glanced to Echo’s hand. “Does the mark trouble you?” 

“It stop spreading, and it doesn’t hurt,” Echo commented, lightly. “I’d call that a win.” 

Cassandra nodded. “We take our victories where we can. The important thing is your mark is stable as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt on the Breach might succeed,” “Provided the mark has more power. The same amount of power that opened the Breach in the first place. That kind of power is not easy to come by.” 

“I’d be terrified if it were,” Echo said, with a muted laugh. Glancing at Cassandra out of the corner of her eye, her right brow rose upward. “But I’m assuming since you’re bringing this up that you have some idea where to find such power?” 

“A few, but it is…” Cassandra’s brow pinched. “Still a matter of debate.” 

Echo was curious to what that meant, and didn’t have to wait long to find out the answer. As soon as they entered the War Room, the debate—as Cassandra called—immediately started, without so much as a pause after greetings. “The mark needs more strength behind it,” Cassandra stated, fiercely. “We must approach the Rebel Mages for their assistance.” 

“I disagree,” Cullen gave her a sharp look. “The templars could do just as well.” 

Echo wasn’t surprised that Cullen did not view the mages as the better option, and to be honest, Echo wasn’t entirely certain she did, either. Oh, she definitely favored them over templars. That was no secret, but it was worrying what would happen if more magic was put into the mark. Would it seal the Breach, or create another disaster? Emotions swirled in her gut heavy like spoiled milk. She chewed on the end of her thumb nail as her eyes darted between the Seeker and Commander. 

“We need them, Commander,” the Seeker stressed, with a narrowed eyed look. “The mages must pour more power into the mark--” 

“And that might destroy us all,” Cullen’s tone as scathing as the dark look that passed his features. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and drew in a thick breath. “The templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it.” 

“Pure speculation,” Leliana stated, rather bluntly. 

Cullen bit back a sigh of frustration. “I _was_ a templar. I know what they are capable of.” 

Echo shot Josephine a pleading look, and the Ambassador thankfully stepped in. “Unfortunately as of right now neither group is willing speak with us,” Josephine said, her benign tone cut through the tension like a blade through butter. “The Chantry has all, but denounced us. They might not yet openly disparage you as the Herald of Andraste just yet, but only because they do not have an angle in which to do so would be to their advantage.” 

“Unlike Edric, you were not at the Conclave so they cannot claim you were involved,” Leliana added, with a flick of amusement. “They could try, but there accusations would be flimsy at best. Easily undermined, and put a stop to.” 

“Yet,” Cullen added, dryly. “I would not put it past them to condemn her as a villain in attempt to return people to their flock. Especially if your previous entanglements are made public knowledge.” 

Echo gave him a long look, then a huff of bitter amusement fell out of her mouth. “You mean my history with Hawke, don’t you? You think the Chantry may very well think of me as another Anders? Mad, possessed, beyond reasoning?” She asked, her mouth going dry with panic at the very thought. 

“It is a possibility we have to consider,” Cassandra said, regretfully. “Make no mistake, they are frightened of you, and what you represent. Frightened people are always amongst the first to last out.” 

In the back of her mind, Echo wondered if the Seeker was speaking from personal experience. There was a weight and guarded nature to Cassandra, as if she had lived through too much, too fast. In fact, it seemed like the Inquisition was made up with people with broken back stories. Though she only the true details of Varric’s story and her own, she would bet in each their own way, all of them were running from something best left in the past. 

“Needlessly to say, it limits our options,” Josephine said, with a sympathetic smile. 

“Could the Chantry attack us?” Echo asked, uneasily. 

Cullen scoffed. “With what? They only have words.” 

“And they might bury us with them,” Josephine reprimanded, with a stern look at the Commander. “Words can be more harmful than any sword, Commander, especially if whispered in the right ears. We need something to combat such whispers. Influence that will turn the tide in our favor, and give us more standing so eventually we may approach either the mages or the templars. As we are now, that is an impossibility.” 

“There is something I have that might be a promising lead. As you well know, I was following a promising lead that came from my scouts in the Hinterlands. A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle is offering the Inquisition aid,” Leliana said, folding her arms over her chest. “She has asked to speak to you, and knows the players in the Chantry far better than I. Any information she is willing to part with could help us.” 

“If anywhere needs our attention now more than ever, it would be the Hinterlands. Refugees, mage-templar fighting, no to mention it’s sets up the King’s Road which is the main for caravans and traders,” Cullen stroked his five o‘clock shadow, thoughtfully. “If the Inquisition sent men there to provide a presence, and found a way to ease the trouble there, it would greatly benefit. That would not be such a bad idea.” 

“A perfect way to spread our influence, and gain agents to extend our reach beyond the valley,” Josephine nodded, satisfied. She wrote something down, then looked towards Cassandra. 

“Then we shall leave out by the week’s end,” Cassandra decided, with a sharp nod. “Josephine, please have the essentials gathered and packed so there will be no more delay than absolutely necessary. 

Echo was not unpleased by such a venture. Though it would be taxing to depart in by the end of the week, the fate of the Hinterlands had been in the back of her mind like an unrelenting fly buzzing about. There was a bit of anxiousness because it cemented the fact that working for the Inquisition, being sent out would be her new reality, but she would actually be doing something. That was better than the helplessness any day. “I want Varric with us,” Echo demanded. Politely it was said, but it was still a demand. “Solas, too, since he is going to be training me with my magic.” 

Cassandra’s face puckered up, like she had sucked on a lemon at the mention of Varric’s name. There was a hard denial in those eyes, but common sense ruled the day when it slipped away with great reluctances. “Very well,” the Seeker sighed. “There is a safety in numbers, but I would make one request of you in return.” 

“You may request away,” Echo said, her tone light. 

“Training. Non-magical training,” Cassandra specified. “You are skilled enough with a bow, and daggers. You’ve survived what you’ve encountered so far, but this is not ordinary scrap you will face in the Hinterlands. Most adversaries you will face are trained for combat their entire lives, templars and mages alike. I would request that you come down to the training fields, and I will train you to the best of my ability.” 

“Oh. Huh.” That hadn’t been what Echo expected. 

“You may not have the range for a warrior’s fighting style, but it would be beneficial for you to know how one fights,” Cassandra continued, very serious about the request. “It will help you anticipate how your enemy will strike, and could very well give a rogue such as yourself the upper hand if the situation calls for it.” 

She stared for a long moment at the impressive figure that Cassandra cut, nearly a head taller than Echo. Far more sturdier built than Echo, too. If could only imagine the woman was a human tank, and the thought of training with her was daunting. “This isn’t just to get back at me for not telling anyone about the mark by beating me senseless into the ground over and over, is it?” She asked, her tone more meek than she cared to admit. 

Josephine hid her smile behind the feather of her quill, while Cullen ducked his head with a loud cough. Leliana was the only one brazen enough to look horrible entertain by the remark. 

Cassandra’s eyes widened at the accusation. “Of course not!” 

Echo’s shoulder slumped, but she wasn’t relieved. “Then I suppose…there is not problem with that then,” she said, lamely. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and honestly, Cassandra was right. A rogue had to rely on being faster and smarter than bigger opponents. Knowing their fighting style even though she couldn’t do it herself wouldn’t hurt. _No, it would,_ she carefully corrected, because she had no illusions that Cassandra would not go easy on her. 

“Good,” Cassandra nodded, pleased. “I will see on the fields at dawn.” 

“At dawn?” Echo blanched, then gave up. There was no point in arguing, she could see that. “Fine,” she added, morosely. She imagined she looked like a child that had been told there weren’t allowed any cookies until after dinner, but she couldn’t muster the energy to care. “Anything else I should know about before this meeting is over?” 

“The vigil,” Leliana said. 

“Vigil?” Echo echoed, pun well intended. 

“For the fallen,” Cullen replied, his expression somber. 

“Our soldiers have built a pyre to burn the remaining bodies upon the mountainside. The people wish to hold a vigil for those lost during the Conclave explosion and the aftermath,” Cassandra said, . “A chance to give them their proper rites, and send them off to the Maker’s side.” 

“I see,” her voice was low, barely audible. Grief wasn’t something she had given herself time to think about. Keeping busy always seemed to beat it back, and kept it at bay. Hearing of the vigil was the first time, she acknowledged quietly that she had lost friends during the disaster. “A vigil…would be nice. It would give them a chance to say goodbye, and I think a lot of people could use that.” 

“Indeed. They have only days to grieve since the first attempt on the Breach. With this, perhaps they can start to heal,” Josephine said, her eyes downcast and her voice very quiet. 

“The people will look for us to be there. To share their sorrow, and pain,” Leliana said, her gaze . “For their Herald to understand their plight, and see her stand strong in spite of it so they, too, can be strong.” 

Echo’s gaze converged with the spymaster’s for a weighty second before she turned her face away. “I’m not making a speech, or spectacle of myself. It’s about them, and their loss, not the Herald of Andraste. I won’t take that from them,” she said, her voice firm and steady. A resolute furrow settled upon her brow, and she drew in a deep breath. “Meeting adjourned?” 

Josephine was the first out the door, not time to spare since she was organizing the vigil. Sister Leliana gave a half bow, and then headed off to write orders to her scouts in the Hinterlands. Or so she said. Cassandra departed with a quiet nod, but no word of her plans. Knowing the Seeker, she’d be out in the training fields and attacking the straw dummies. It seemed to be the woman’s favorite pastime. Echo’s mismatched gaze fell upon the Commander, whose back was turned towards her as he scribbled something hastily on a piece of parchment. For a great pause, she was tempted to say a hasty good-bye and take leave of the room herself yet for some indiscernible reason she could not. 

“So there are a suspicious lack of Chantry officials? I take it that most of them have fled to Val Royeaux than branded as heretics?” Echo asked, with a half smile. Despite the misgivings she had with Cullen, it was apparent they had to work together. And trust couldn’t come from nowhere. It had to start somewhere, and Echo thought perhaps she should take the first step. “Must be why you lot are so antsy for me to meet Mother Giselle, hmm?” 

The Commander stilled, not expecting her to stay let alone speak to him. “Only those that were easily swayed by Chancellor Roderick that it was in their best interest to leave for Val Royeaux,” the Commander answered, his eyes flickered back to his work. “Though there is a number that still remain. I believe they are working with Josephine and busied with organizing the vigil for tonight.” 

Echo hummed, then nodded. “You know if the Chantry’s hesitation is because I’m elf, we could always remind them that Shartan was Andraste’s general, lover, and father of her children,” Echo stated, with only a hint of mischievousness. “Obviously she had not qualms with pointed eared folk.” 

That earned a true smile. “Say stuff like that around the Chancellor, and you’ll likely send him to his grave,” the Commander chuckled, quietly. “However, I believe they are concerned for a whole different reason.” 

“Ah, so you mean they are concerned about a nice apostate like me being called the Herald of Andraste, huh?” Echo guessed, her tone dry. 

A twitch in his cheek told her that she had guessed right. “Look, I want you to know despite my adamant suggestions that you train your magic, you being a mage doesn’t matter to me. As a templar I have a…tumultuous history with the Circles that I have watched, but I do not hate mages on sight. There maybe have been a time…” Cullen dropped the sentence with heavy breath. The torchlight just made the dark circles underneath his eyes all that more apparent, and the shadows in his eyes grew heavier as his thoughts turned towards the past for a brief moment. With a shake of his head, he turned his head to look at her. “Yes, the fact that your mage makes this a tricky situation. You’re the perfect target for retaliation, or a convenient scapegoat. Your mark, and your new title just makes it more dangerous for you.” 

His assurances sounded sincere, but experience told Echo not to trust a templar with an inch of her life. It was very hard for to allow herself to believe him. “What’s life without a little danger, right?” She made the joke, and picked up her cloak where it had been discarded on the edge of the war table. “Have a good evening, Commander.” 

She turned, and walked away. She was at the door when his voice stopped her in her tracks. 

“I stood against Meredith.” 

A bewildered expression cut across her face, and she slowly turned around to look at Cullen as if she had misheard him. “What?” She asked, blinking hard. 

Cullen drew in a great breath, and pulled away from the war table. “I stood against Meredith, in the end. I should have done it sooner. Maker’s breath, I should have seen her for what she was sooner, but I…I allowed myself to forget that not only mages face corrupted. I allowed myself to be blinded by my pain to the sufferings of those I was sworn to protect,” Cullen told her, honest regret in his voice. He looked ashamed, and guilty over his actions. “I will not be blind again. If that…if that means anything.” 

Her curious gaze traced the lines in his face. Lines born from hardship, and experience with dark, horrid things in a short amount of time. “You were Kincolch Circle, right? During the Blight?” Echo asked, lightly. “I think I recall Anders mentioning that.” 

“Yes, I was,” Cullen replied, his expression suddenly guarded. 

Echo nodded, slowly. She doubted he would answer any questions if she dared to ask, but she did not need to. She remembered the stories well enough of the terror that happened there. Anders had given her a first hand account of what happened. Though he had been locked in solitary confinement for year after sixth attempt at escaping, he had seen the aftermath of Uldred’s madness. Mages and templars alike had been slaughter in the most heinous of ways. She couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like to have live through something like that. She could almost see it when she looked at the Commander. A young idealistic man who had his views on the world shattered in one unforgiving moment, and a dark anger that had colored his view on the world for the longest time. A blistering rage that he had let go, but in it’s void was regret and self-disgust. 

It was an insight that she hadn’t taken time to think about until this very moment, and she no longer saw him as just a templar that she was wary of back in Kirkwall. She saw him as a human being, who had been hurt and had made choices because of it. But one bad decision shouldn’t define a person for the rest of their life. She turned back to face the door, and stood there for longer than she intended to. “Commander?” called Echo, quietly. 

“Hmm?” The Commander lifted his gaze from his work, and looked up to where she lingered in the doorway. She craned her head so she peered at him over her shoulder. 

“It means something,” she told him, steadfastly. A flash of shock spread across Cullen’s face, and she watched him struggle to control the feelings that her simple statement evoked. She gave him a quick smile, then stepped through threshold and closed the door behind her. After the door latch, she turned to leave when she did a double take at the spymaster who lingered right beside the door, obviously eavesdropping. Echo stood a moment stupefied, and then her eyes thinned into slits. “I’m assuming you aren’t just standing there to look pretty.” 

A humorless smile flirted across the spymaster’s mouth. “Such kind words you offer the Commander,” Leliana stated, from where the leaned against the wall. Her arms were folded over her chest, and her head bowed in such a way that her shadow of her hood obscured her face. “Do you really mean them?” 

“Yes, I meant them,” she stated, candidly. Out of everyone here, Leliana scared her the most. Those violet eyes seemed to peer straight into her mind, and delve into every inch of her soul like it was a book made for reading. It was disconcerting. “I may be…wary of his templar past, but we all have our pasts. If he is willing to give me a chance, why should I not spare him the same courtesy?” 

“How diplomatic of you,” the spymaster said, lightly. 

“Don’t get use to it,” Echo countered, with unladylike snort. “I rather leave the diplomacy to Josephine. I can barely manage the patience for on a good day, let alone a bad one.” 

“I had suspected as much, though that will not deter Josephine from teaching you etiquette and fine dining skills that will no doubt be required of you later down the line,” Leliana stated, very matter-of-factly. She pulled herself from where she rested, and took a couple of steps forward until she was only a foot away from Echo. “Your new status is of interest of many nobles. Some are merely curious, others furious, and some who see you as nothing more than a shiny new toy that can be used for their personal gains.” 

“So I’ve gathered,” Echo said, dryly. So far she had skillfully dodged any contact with nobles, with Josephine’s help. The woman had a silver tongue that could turn coal into gold, if it such a thing were possible. Her gaze drew across Leliana’s blank expression, guarded and remote. “You don’t really like me all that much, do you?” 

Leliana surprisingly smiled. “On the contrary, I like you a great deal. You have a strength about you and the way you handle yourself that the Inquisition sorely needs.” 

Echo shifted back on the balls of her feet. “But?” 

“But while you may be the Herald of Andraste, you aren’t the leader of this Inquisition,” Leliana commented, her tone not the least bit judgmental. 

“Leader?” A startled laugh escaped Echo. “There’s…no, just no. I _just_ agreed to help the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to be a _leader._ Where would you even get such an idea?” The elven seemed horrified by the thought. 

“You must understand that with your title and notoriety that you gain much influence. Influence that may put you one day at the head of the Inquisition, even if you do not wish it,” the spymaster told her, with an uncharacteristic softness to her tone. She seemed to understand that such a burden shook Echo to her soul, and was sympathetic. 

“You don’t wish it, either,” Echo pointed out. Her fingers darted across her neck to wipe away the cold sweat that broke out along the nape of it. 

“My hesitation does not mean I believe you to be a questionable character, or borne out of dislike for you. You have a certain skittishness when it comes to most decisions, I have noticed. You are afraid of making the wrong ones, and struggle with it,” Leliana told her, honestly. There was no lie that could be found in the spymaster’s voice or eyes. “A leader must be resolute in their decisions, and must be called upon to make them at a moment’s notice. Must know when to be diplomatic, and when to be ruthless. You could in time come to be able to do this, but I’m afraid time is not luxury we have to spare.” 

“So that’s what that power play was in the healer’s tent with Flissa? And in the War Room just moment’s ago?” Echo asked, slightly confused. “You want to lead the Inquisition?” 

“You misunderstand me. I do not covet leadership of this Inquisition. I am quite content to keep to my shadows, and underhanded dealings as it’s spymaster,” Leliana gave a light chuckle, and shook her head amused by the innocent accusation. “I may help the Inquisition come to fruition, but my path is not as it’s leader. No, that has to be someone who can live with the choices that have to be made, and can bear the burden of it without being consumed or disillusioned by it.” 

“I would try, if I had to,” Echo commented, after a hesitation. 

Leliana nodded, ever so slightly. “And you would do better than most, I have no doubt. But better isn’t what we need,” the spymaster told her, not unkindly. “We need to be better than the best if we are to piece this world back together.” 

There was something in the spymaster’s tone that gave Echo a moment’s hesitation. She scrutinized the redhead woman, and a light bulb flashed bright inside her mind. “You don’t want to just piece the world back together,” Echo realized, slightly astonished. “You want to _change_ it.” 

“Don’t you?” Leliana asked, her laugh beautiful like chime bells gently clinging together. It was a sound not often heard. “The way the world has become is stagnant. Unchanging, and still. The systems that once kept the world at peace and worked, no longer can. We cannot go back to the way things were. We must instead look forward. Build upon the foundation we have, but something stronger. Something better. We need someone who will charge headlong into this new age, and pull the rest of the world with them.” 

Echo raised a brow. “You sound like you have someone in mind?” 

“Oh, someone comes to mind, but it’s an impossibility.” 

“Why?” Echo asked. 

“She died ten years ago,” was Leliana’s reply. 

Echo frowned, thoughtfully. She heard rumors that the spymaster was once part of the group that helped save Ferelden from the Blight, and it would have ten years ago that this happened. “You are talking about the Warden that ended the Fifth Blight?” Echo asked, head cocked to the side. She didn’t know the Warden’s name. As far as she knew people just referred to her as “The Warden” or the “Hero of Ferelden”. The titles never giving thought to the woman behind it. 

“Yes. She was my dearest friend, and the only person that I ever fully trusted,” Leliana whispered out. The spymaster seemed almost human talking about her friend. “She wasn’t perfect, but she made decision when they had to be made. She made them regardless if anyone agreed with them, or not. And she was usually right in her decisions.” 

“Someone who held back the chaos, even when she was knee deep in her own,” Echo said, softly. “Her loss must have been devastating.” 

Leliana stood there for a moment, with naked emotions shining in her eyes. Then slowly, bit by bit, her expressionless mask fell back into place and her thoughts cast behind the shadows in her violet eyes. “It was,” Leliana said, her tone mild. “But it was her choice, her sacrifice and there is no changing that. I apologize, these concerns are mine to bear.” 

Echo opened her mouth, then thought better about it. She didn’t dare to press the issue in fear of being shanked by the spymaster. “No apologizes necessary, Sister Leliana,” was what she chose to say instead, and she offered the other woman a fleeting smile. “I shall see you at the vigil tonight.” 

And had Echo left the Chantry anymore quickly than it would have been called running away. Perhaps on some level, she was running away. She had agreed to help the Inquisition. She wasn’t looking to lead the charge. Hell, she barely wanted to be known as the Herald of Andraste and why the hell did she say that she would do her best if it came down to her leading it? _What the actual fuck? What is wrong with me? Why does my tongue betray me when I least expect it?_ She bit the inside of her cheek so harshly that she tasted blood, but it was an effort to keep to the insane hysterical laughter quarantined in her throat. It wouldn’t do if the Herald of freakin’ Andraste was seen leaving the Chantry acting like a madwoman. 

* * *

The moon, Lunae, stood high over the horizon while it’s slightly smaller companion, Satina, was just peeking over the tips of the silent and dark mountains. Mournful hymns echoed across the snow covered hills as embers drifted upwards like fireflies through columns of smoke from the great pyres that had been built, and they went up into the night sky before their lights died. The town of Haven was barely a spec the valley from where they stood, and even though the air had dropped to a deathly chill, it had not quelled the numbers that gathered to send off their loved ones. The wind gave a sorrowful howl as Echo stood back from the crowd. The mass huddled together, and before them stood the Chantry mothers, with Cassandra and Cullen off to the side of them. Josephine was talking quietly to one of them while the eldest Chantry mother led them in another song for the departed. 

Echo tried to discretely shake off the snow that clung to the bottom of her leggings, and hissed when some of it slid down into her boot. _Oh, fuck, that is cold,_ she thought, teeth sinking into her lower lip. Her eyes darted around the crowd, trying to pick out a familiar face and she let out a sigh of relief when she saw Varric escorting Mahanon up the path. She jogged over to them, and as soon as she reached them, she flashed a small smile. “Hey, you two made it,” she said, pulling her cloak around her tighter. “They just started with the rites, and everything.” 

“Sorry to show up fashionably late,” Varric smirked. 

“You wouldn’t be you if you showed up on time, Varric,” Echo assured him, teasingly. Sliding a lock of hair up and tucking it out of the way, her expression turned somber as her eyes traced Mahanon’s pale face. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the chance to see you today. There was the War Room meeting, then I barely got done with breakfast before I was hunted down by Josephine because some nobles wished to meet me personal. Don’t ask me to pronounce the name. It’s Orleasian, and way too long.” 

Mahanon gave a light snort at her tale. “Been better, and been worse. I can’t complain too much though. Sleep did not come easy to me, but after a few card games, I managed to find it,” the Dalish elf said, quietly. 

“Card games?” Echo was bemused. 

“Varric taught me how to play Wicked Grace,” Mahanon said, a tad sheepish. 

A brow lifted, and Echo looked at Varric. “Varric, did you really spend last night teaching him how to gamble?” She asked, though she wasn’t that surprised. 

Varric gave a shrug. “It’s therapeutic. Also, Chuckles came by this morning, and says that our friend here is doing well enough,” the dwarf informed her. “Other than that it’s be a relatively quiet morning. Stayed locked up tight in the cabin, and out everyone’s hair. Figured that was best after last night. Nothing so daunting as dealing with Orleasian nobility.” 

Echo gave a breathless laugh, then her smile turned sad. She never truly comprehended the number of people that remained in Haven, and it was even more heartbreaking when she realized that the majority of them had most likely lost someone in the catastrophe. She felt their sorrow to the marrow of her bones, and a song lifted over the quiet sobs. 

  
_Abide with us; with heavenly gladness,_

_Illumine, Andraste, our darkest day;_

_And when we weep in pain and sadness,_

_Be Thou our Solace, Strength, and Stay._

_Tell of Thy woe, They victory won,_

_When thou didst pray: “Thy will be done.”_

“I never imagined a shem funeral for my sister,” Mahanon whispered out, his voice almost soundless against the howling wind. 

“Are Dalish rites so different?” Echo wondered, flinching back from the cold. She wrapped her cloak around her like a second skin, and 

Mahanon . “Before the new keeper took charge, we celebrated our dead. It is a sad, but joyous occasion. We built a fire then sit around with food, and drink, and share our memories about the dead. We do it to honor their memory, and to remember they life they lived was not in vain. That even in death, they still _matter_.” 

Echo thought that was a beautiful sentiment. “And the new keeper doesn’t run things like that?” She prodded, gently. 

“No, she doesn’t,” Mahanon said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. A hard fleck appeared In his eyes before it fled as he dragged hand tiredly down his face. “A shem funeral may not be something I ever imagined for my sister or Jote, but the Inquisition honors their sacrifice. That’s more than Clan Lavellan would have done.” 

Echo felt a twist in her heart, and she looked at Mahanon with renewed sadness. A memory crossed through her mind, a memory of ten year old Danny Mayes who always had bruises each and everyday of fifth grade. He disappeared, and it wasn’t until years later Echo had learned he had been beaten to death by his step-mother. Echo remembered the withdrawn skittish behavior that Danny had, and Mahanon echoed the image there. Bile burnt at the back of her throat, and she choked it down. At some point, Mahanon—and most likely Ellana and Jote, too—had been abused in their clan. The thought made her heart hurt worse than it already was. 

  
_Abide with us, O’Andraste tender,_

_That bitter day when life shall end,_

_When to the grave we must surrender,_

_And fear and pain our hearts shall rend._

_The shield of faith do Thou bestow,_

_When trembling we must meet the foe._

Mahanon and Varric moved to join the crowd. Echo went to follow when she was suddenly overcome by the strange anxiousness that she felt once before. Back in the Chantry. A little nervously, Echo glanced around the dark trees that stood behind her. A prickling sensation crawled across the nape of her neck, and she didn’t know what she expected to see among them. A boogeyman? A terrifying figure? Shaking her head at herself, she took a cleansing breath and reached up to rub her left temple. 

“You seem distracted.” 

Echo jumped about a foot in the air, and whipped around to glower up at Solas’s serene expression. Her heart jerked painfully in her chest, and she stumbled back slight in the snow. When she managed to gather herself a second later, her glare turned more venomous. “You did that on purpose,” she accused, darkly. 

His eyebrow lifted, questioningly. 

“Snuck up on me,” she hissed. 

A light huff fell from his lips like smoke from a chimney, and his eyes crinkled. “I did not _sneak up_ on you as you so claim,” the apostate defended, rather calmly. “I called your name twice, and you did not respond.” 

All the wind left her sails, and Echo stared up him, her eyes blinked hard. “Oh? You did?” Her voice very quiet. 

A slight smile. “I did.” 

Her face burned, and she gaped like a fish out of water for several moments, before she could speak. “I…I apologize, Solas,” she said, on a sigh. She placed her hands on her face, a grimace passed over her features before she dropped her arms to her sides. “I just let my imagination get the best of me, and you end up taking the brunt of it.” 

“It is of no consequence,” he stated, mildly. “Though I do wonder what did you expect to find in those woods? Your imagination must have conjured quite a terror to give yourself such a fright,” his eyes lifted to peer around her at the shadowy woods behind her. Like all elves, his eyes in the night held a luminous sheen, but his seemed brighter, more pure of light than other elves she had known. 

“A boogeyman? A masked figure?” The joke fell flat, and she ducked her head. “I’m not sure what made me uneasy,” she admitted, slightly embarrassed. “Maybe it’s all the shadows behind me. I have never been fond of darkness.” 

“A fear as old as time,” Solas commented, with a slight incline of his head. “The night often makes monsters out of shadows.” 

_When earthly help no more availeth,_

_To sup with us Thou wilt be nigh;_

_Thou givest strength that never faileth,_

_In Thee we grave and death defy._

_While earth is fading from our sight,_

_Our eyes behold the realms of light.”_

The song faded into silence, and the wind brought the scent of snow mingled with burning flesh. The pyres an unfortunate necessity for a dead body often attracted spirits or demons. Besides, even if they could bury bodies, the ground was much too hard to make an attempt. The snow crunched beneath her and Solas’s feet as they joined Varric and Mahanon on the back edge of the crowds. Shivering arms folded over her chest, Echo watched the people were asked if there were words or songs that anyone felt the need to share. 

“Thinking of singing them a song?” Varric asked, quietly. 

“You’re joking,” Echo said, flatly. 

Varric shrugged. “Andraste did it. Why not her herald?” 

“Not a comparison I particularly care for Varric,” Echo hissed, underneath her breath. “You do remember how Andraste’s story ended, right?” 

“Songs can sometimes express grief and emotion better with a single lyric than a person can with a lifetime of words,” Solas commented, pensively. “I have found that music has a way to transcend barriers, and that is now needed more than ever. Taking this moment to reach out to relate with their grief would not be remise. After all, Haven is your home, is not? Surely you had friends that were upon the mountain that were lost?” 

Echo’s breath hitched, and she looked away from them with her heart in her throat. “Yes. Many good people were lost on the mountain. I did not know a great deal of them, but a few I happily called friends,” whispered Echo, mournfully. Her eyes reflected the blaze of the fire, and even though the scorching heat came from the flames, she felt cold inside. There had been people that had been a part of her everyday life in Haven. People who she had seen everyday, and now they were gone. It hadn’t hit her in full force until she watched the pile of bodies slowly become ash and cinder. An overwhelming weight fell upon her chest, and she looked out at the sea of tear strained faces. “Taigen might have been a grumpy old fool, but he was a decent man. An even better healer. Harriet’s daughter, Amelia, had been up on the mountain with her fiancé, Erik. He was a templar, and both thought to have been caught in the blast. So many good people gone in a single moment, and I have to wonder for what. What does anyone gain from destruction like this?” 

“Only madness,” replied Solas, quietly. There was a quiet sadness upon his face as he surveyed the great many people, and acknowledged the death upon the mountain had been a great waste. He could speak about necessary sacrifices until he was blue in the face. No matter how necessary or not, that did not stop them from being grievous and great pity. The blighted magister was never meant to use the orb’s power, only unlock it. Solas never imagined that the darkspawn magister would be able to harness the orb’s power in such a way, a miscalculation that was on his shoulders. “What did this only sought madness.” 

Echo felt the weight of his words, and sighed. “Madness is definitely what was achieved, but no song is going to fix that. And besides, it’s not my song that needs to be heard,” she commented, sorrowfully. “It’s their voices that need to be heard tonight. Like I told the war council, I will not make a spectacle in the midst of their grief. No matter how well intentioned it may be.” 

A full minute passed before Mahanon summoned up enough courage to ask. “Do you think they would allow me to sing? I mean, the Chantry are not fond of Dalish, but there is a song I know. It was Ellana’s favorite…” His expression crumbled with his uncertainty. 

Echo turned to look at the Dalish elf, her brows lifted upwards. “You believe that they won’t allow you to sing a song for your sister because you’re Dalish?” Her voice rose slightly, and drew a couple of nearby eyes to them. Straightening her spine, she leveled a gaze at Mahanon and told him, firmly, “They will. If you have a song to sing, it will be heard. Your words matter just like everyone else’s. And if anyone gives you any trouble, they’ll have to deal with me.” 

Mahanon let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Echo walked with him as he made his way through the thicket of the crowd, and once they reached the front, and she caught Cassandra’s eye. The Seeker looked at her questioningly, and Echo merely inclined her head towards Mahanon. “Mahanon has a song he wishes to share in memory of his sister,” Echo said, after they came to a step in front of the older Chantry woman who seemed to be running things with Josephine. Her face sagged with wrinkles, and each movement stiffened by old bones agitated by the cold yet the woman still wore a smile. 

One sister looked ready to protest which made anger boil in Echo’s gut, but the eldest Chantry mother waved off such protest. “We would be honored to hear your song, my child,” the Chantry mother said, her voice gentle as the summer breeze. 

Mahanon mumbled out a small thanks, but he didn’t look rather convinced. His throat bobbed like a buoy in a storm, and he slowly turned to face the crowd. Normally when an elf was faced with this number of humans, it didn’t mean anything good so Echo could understand the wave of apprehension that traveled visibly across Mahanon from head to toe. He opened his mouth, and then closed just as promptly. His eyes shut tightly, and he drew in a deep, steady breath. _“I close my eyes, tell us why we suffer, release your hands for you will run asunder, my legs long tired tell us where must we wander, how can we carry on with redemption beyond us,”_ Mahanon sang, his voice pitched low. His untrained voice wavered on a note or two, but it was clear and crisp like the breeze in the spring. 

Her fingers slipped into his, and she held his hand tightly. His fingers squeezed back, so they did not quake and give away his nerves. _“To all of my children whom life flows abundant, to all of my children to whom death hath passed his judgment_ ,” his voice gathered strength, and he stood taller, letting his voice flow freely. _“The soul yearns for honor and the flesh the hereafter, look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after…”_

Solas felt the air stripped from his lung in one harsh moment. The lyrics of the song were ones he knew very well. It was a song passed quietly between the elvhen slaves, and became the anthem of the freed. He had not expect such a song to survive the test of time, since so much had been lost. Joy and despair pierced his heart as he listened, his head bowed and eyes closed. 

_“Shining is the lands light of justice, Ever flows the land’s well of purpose, Walk free, walk free, walk free, believe_ ,” Mahanon’s voice carried over the silent crowd, and they seemed mesmerized by the words, compelled to listen. “The land’s alive, so believe.” 

Echo felt a sea of emotions swirl inside her heart, and it was a sea besieged by a hurricane. The song was not one she could recall, and yet it held such familiarity, like she must have heard it before. 

_“Now open your eyes while our plight is repeated. Still deaf to our cries lost in hope we lie defeated. Our souls have been torn and our bodies forsaken. Bearing sins of the past for our future is taken,”_ Mahanon sang, soulfully. _“War, born of strife these trials dissuade us not. Words without sound these lies betray our thoughts mired by your plague of doubtful and cheap lore. Judgment binds all we hold to a memory of scorn. Tell us why, given life, we are meant to die? Help us in our cry!”_

As Mahanon sang the next verse, Echo found her own lips tremble to sing the song. The words somehow magical known to her tongue, but not her mind. She bit the inside of her cheek, and choked her voice down. 

_“Witness we suffer, we grovel, we reason. We follow, we struggle, we wander, we listen. We whisper, we shoulder, we addle, we weather. Please answer, you answer, answer together_ ,” his voice grew softer as the song winded to an end, and his heart felt heavy beneath his breast. _“My life is a riddle, to bear rapture and sorrow to listen to suffer to entrust unto tomorrow. In one fleeting moment from the land doth life flow yet in one fleeting moment for the new leaf doth grow. In the same fleeting moment thou must live, die and know.”_

Mahanon’s voice broke and he pressed his face into his hands, with sobs racking his body. Sniffles and sobs answered him, a crowd of people who felt the same pain, the same heartbreak just as deeply and keenly as he did. 

A fresh wave of agonizing heartache engulfed Echo, and she closed her eyes to hold back her own tears. There was nothing she could do for this people. Nothing that could erase what had been done. The only thing she could do was seal the Breach. It couldn’t make things right, but it was the first step to do so. It was the only comfort she could offer these people here who has suffered too much, too quickly. 

As his sobs eased, a Chantry Mother approached the Dalish elf. For a moment, Echo feared she would have to intervene. There was much biased against Dalish elf amongst the people of the Chantry, but the look on the woman’s face was gentle and eyes filled with kindness. She reached up with her boney fingers and took Mahanon’s face into her hands, pulling his head down so she could place a kiss upon the crown of his forehead. The act of compassion shocked Mahanon, and he stared at the older woman in completely awe. 

“Have strength, young one, for you are not alone,” the Chantry mother whispered. The elderly Chantry woman gave Mahanon a motherly pat to the cheek, and a kind smile before she walked up the hill to stand before the crowd. She stated a sermon, asking the Andraste to bless those that had died and those that still toiled on. She asked the Maker to bring the lost to his side, to bring them home. 

As soon they were within earshot, Varric said, “I think it’s best if Bianca and I escorted you home, Cutthroat.” 

Echo smiled slightly at the nickname Varric bestowed upon Mahanon. It was rather ironic since she got the impression that Mahanon was actual more temperate than anything remotely like a cutthroat. “I think that’s probably a good idea. The ceremony seems to be almost over. Be carefully on your way down the mountain. The snow isn’t compacted so one false step and you’ll be rolling the rest of the way down,” she told them, with a half smile. Well, it was an attempt at a half smile. 

Mahanon looked confused as he wiped the tears stains from his cheeks. “Cutthroat?” He asked, his voice haggard. 

“Your nickname,” Varric explained. 

“But I’m hardly a cutthroat,” Mahanon said. 

“There this thing called irony, kid,” Varric chuckled. “You’ll understand it if you think about it.” 

Echo longed to go with them, to let the ensuing banter soothe the sadness that lingers over her more tightly than the cloak around her shoulders. Yet she cannot. A sense of purpose and duty haven fallen upon her shoulders, and she feels she cannot leave until the last person has returned on their way to Haven. She needed to stay with them, to stay and understand the true severity of what the Inquisition is undertaking. The Inquisition intends on changing the world, and on getting justice for every soul here. She needed to be here, to better understand just what her part was going to be in all of this. 

She finally spotted Leliana, who lingered just within the shade of the tree line. She was tempted to leave well enough alone when a sudden thought occurred to her, and that the spymaster may be able to help. Steeling herself, Echo marched across the snow towards her and stopped about a foot in front of Leliana. “I would ask a favor of you, spymaster,” Echo said, quietly. 

“Oh? I must hear this,” Leliana was clearly intrigued. 

“Mahanon gave your skilled and trained scouts the slip. Something tells me that was no mere slip up,” Echo spoke, her voice little more than whisper. “I would ask you train him. Give him something to keep himself busy. If he’s busy…the less time he has to fall into the dark places of his mind. It’s a slippery slope he is on, I can feel it. The despair demon is dead, but the damage it done isn’t gone. With the venture to the Hinterlands, he isn’t going to have Varric to help give him distraction, or me to stop him before he possibly does something rash.” 

Leliana mulled the idea over—genuinely thought about it, not just to humor Echo—and hummed deep in her throat. “I suppose the Inquisition could benefit from taking Mahanon in as a scout. At the very least, he can tell my people just how he evaded them. At the very best, we gain a skilled agent.” 

“So you’ll do it?” 

“I will test him,” Leliana promised. “If he passes, he shall become a scout. If not, I’ll have Josephine find him something better suited for him. Either way, we shall find him something that gives him a purpose other than to languish in thoughts of despair.” 

“Thank you,” Echo breathed out. “I owe you, spymaster.” 

“Carefully with what you say,” a sly gleam appeared in those violet-grey eyes. “One day, I may tempted to collect and the prices I come to gather are often quite high.” 

“I owe you,” Echo repeated, only slightly phased by Sister Leliana’s words. She felt that she had reached something of an understanding with the other woman, and while she would always fear her on an instinctive level, she was beginning to believe Leliana meant her no harm. At least, not any time soon. She leaned against a nearby tree, and walked the vigil progress. Many more songs were sung, many people whispered prayers and words for their loved ones well into the night until the cold forced them to turn away. In groups, they shuffled down the mountain in search of warm shelter, and Echo could feel numb prickle at her skin. The layers she wore were no longer sufficient, and she, too, needed to find a nice fire to dispel the chill. 

Solas appeared along the edge of the crowd, not too far away, and weaved past them towards her. “Are you sure it is wise to make such bargains for a Dalish elf?” He asked, with a deep set frown. 

“Heard that did you?” Echo asked, dryly. “You’re hearing is quiet keen.” 

“You care for him,” Solas stated, ignoring the statement. 

“I empathize with him, and his situation,” Echo corrected, giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t know Mahanon well enough to claim that I care about him.” 

“Yet you’ve gone quite out of your way for him,” Solas noted. 

“I have,” Echo nodded. “Perhaps more than is wise, but if the circumstances were reversed I would wish that someone would do the same for me.” 

“Some people will question why,” Solas warned, gently. 

“Let them,” she said, with a light scoff. “My motivations when it comes to Mahanon are hardly reprehensible. Maybe a little selfish, to be honest.” 

“How so?” 

Echo let a long sigh. “Because he reminds me of myself. When I was younger, easily consumed by my darker thoughts, except he has no Ashlinn to come riding in to deal out hard truths. The person that could do that for him died on that mountain. So maybe by trying to save him, I’m trying to save myself as well.” 

A sadness flared in his eyes, and flickered downward towards the ground as his lips formed a thin, firm line. “You’re lips are turning blue,” he chided, lightly. “If you truly wish to depart for the Hinterlands, as Cassandra has told me, then it would not be wise to get sick.” 

“Are you always such a mother hen, Solas?” She asked, through chattering teeth and with a quaking smile. A laugh escaped her when his expression became slightly miffed, and she had to smother it quickly. “Tell me about the Fade. If I can take my mind off of the cold, it won’t be so bad.” 

Solas considered her for a long and weighty moment. He then extended his hand, his long fingers clasped around her wrists delicately, ignoring the eyebrow arched at him. He summoned forth warmth into his palms, not enough to create a flame, and gently shoved the tingling heat into Echo’s hands. 

“Oh,” Echo gave a delighted laugh, low and deep in her throat, as warmth spread into her numb finger. “You have to teach me that. I almost always set something on fire, or burn myself when I attempt anything like this. Though on occasion, I can get it right.” 

“Practical uses of your magic is something we shall cover. Have no fear,” Solas spared her a glance, the corner of his mouth titled up. The noise she made was delightful, and if things were not as they were, he would not mind hearing it again. Yet such thoughts had no place here, and he immediately dispelled them from his mind the best he could. “Why do you stay? The people have seen their Herald long enough. No one would harbor any ill if you decided to return back to Haven.” 

”I don’t know if I can sufficiently explain it,” Echo told him, honestly. “Back where I grew up, I was sheltered for lack of a better term. Death and tragedy were not unheard, but there was a level of distance. A separation between it and me. Not that I wasn’t still sadden by it, but this…this feels personal. Haven is my home. There is no other place in the world that would take me in as it does. I just feel that it is my burden, their grief, and I can’t…can’t leave just yet.” 

Solas made a thoughtful noise, his eyes flickered to the last few people to linger next to the dying pyres. Purpose was an essential part of life, it gave a person something to strive towards, and live for. He supposed she sought to see her purpose here with the people that had suffered the most of the Conclave, to understand what that truly meant. She knew that a whole world of burdens was being dropped onto her shoulders, but he did not believe she truly comprehended what that meant. “What do you wish to know about the Fade?” Solas asked, releasing her hands. 

”You said you traveled to many different places,” Echo shivered, holding her hands close to her chest to make the most of the magical warmth coursing across her skin. “What is one place that you recall off the top of your head?” 

“This world, or its memory, is reflected in the Fade. Dream in ancient ruins, and you may see a city lost to history. Some of my fondest memories were found in crumbling cities long picked dry by treasure hunters, and fortune seekers,” Solas turned his face towards the wind, his eyes focused on the clouds that began to gather above and blot out the stars. “The best are the battlefields. Spirits press so tightly on the Veil that you can slip across with but a thought.” 

“Any particular place?” She asked, lightly. 

I dreamt of Ostgar. I witnessed the brutality of the darkspawn and the valor of the Ferelden warriors. I saw Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden light the signal fire…and Loghain’s infamous betrayal of Calian’s forces. 

“I’ve heard the stories,” “What exactly was it like? Were you seeing the memory as if you were a part of it? Or merely as an observer?” 

“Merely as an observer. I find it less 

“In the Fade, I see reflections created by spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic Wardens lighting the fire and a power-mad villain sneering as he lets King Calian fall. The next, I see an army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause.” 

“Different perceptions can change a memory in the Fade?” Echo inquired, with her head tilted like a curious kitten. 

“Exactly so. Show two people the same painting of the winter snow blanketing a meadow beneath the twinkling night sky. One will argue that it is the pure white snow that is the focus of the painting. The other will disagree and say that it is the sky that is the most profound in the picture,” Solas said, 

“So in the Fade, every perception the spirits portray holds a piece of reality? But which is the best reflection of this world? The one is the truest?” She wondered, with a light frown. 

“You could dream a hundred dreams, and be no closer to answer than you were from the start,” Solas gave a mirthless chuckle. When he was younger, he sought such truths like a man in the desert sought a source of water. It had taken him quite some time to realize such notions of truth were one dimensional. One person’s truths were not another’s, and memories were inherently colored by the person who made them. “It seems that last of mourners are leaving. I imagine the Chantry individuals will follow soon after, along with Seeker Pentaghast. She, too, seems to feel the burden of this as yourself.” 

“I imagine that she feels it more so,” her eyes flickered towards the Seeker, before she heaved a deep sigh. Pulling the strands of hair out of her face, she glanced upward at the night sky. “It is late, and you are right. Coming down with a sickness is the last thing I need on top of everything else.” 

“May I escort you back to town?” Solas asked. 

Echo drew in a slow breath, then nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.” 

Solas smiled. “You are most welcomed.” 

* * *

Hours after returning to Haven, Echo laid sound asleep in her bed when the Fade pulled her deep within it’s grasp. Deeper, and deeper until her dream became not just a figment easily put away, and more like a reality onto itself. _She was suddenly standing in a grand hall, with her mother standing behind her leading her up a path. The grand hall was built with great arches, and beautiful curved like that seemed to enhance the flow of magic in the air. There was a gentle beauty of the place that did not boast its importance as the halls of June, nor was wild and savage as those of Andruil. It was not frightening nor intimidating as the shadowy cavernous maze like temple of Dirthamen’s. Nor did it have the air of death that seemed to permeate from the walls of Falon’Din. If anything it held the same atmosphere as the places blessed by the All-Mother. True, it was not as opulent as the golden halls of Mythal that were as warm as the golden sun, but it’s earthy slate marble stone floors and the scent of wild pine and nature was just as inviting._

_She felt scared and groggy with pain. Her face ached and burned. Her tongue wouldn’t cooperate, and every word she said came out wrong. She did not know why mother had brought her here, but mamae had told her it was for the best. That they were going to make her better. She had trust her mamae knew what she was doing. The approached the throne where a god sat._

_The god was Fen’Harel. Word had been whispered by servants with hushed tones that the rebellious god intended to strike down the other gods. He stoked the flames in the hearts of beaten and the damned, her mamae had told her, and Echo still did not know what that meant. She only knew that she was in complete awe of the wolf god as he sat upon his throne built of stone and bones._

_“And what brings a priestess of Falon’Din to my temple?” His voice was like music, fluid and rhythmic. On the side of his head, his hair had been cut close. From the top his head back, the hair was dark and long twisted into dreadlocks that fell down half way down his back. His clothes while finally made were cut in such a way to make him look like savage king. The crown of bones sat upon the top of his head, and wolf pelt draped across his chest like an armor only accentuated this look._

_The dream scattered, or skipped. Echo could barely make out her mother pleading with Fen’Harel for aid. She remembers Fen’Harel stormy blue eyes drew across them sharp, and critical as a lazy predator smile was fixated on his lips. She recalls how it fell when her mother pulled back the hood off of Echo’s head, and revealed the vallaslin. How a collective gasp went through all those in the grand hall—spirit and elvhen alike—because no one so young had bore the blood writing ever before, and she remembers feeling scared when the air went taunt with Fen’Harel’s unspoken rage._

_She remembers how that rage quieted when he saw tears rolling down her chubby cherub cheeks, and how gently he approached her taking great pains not to scare her. The dream skipped forward again. “Ar lasa mala revas, da’len.” Gentle words whispered, and lips pressed against the crown of her forehead. Magic weaved through the air, and Dirthamen’s vallaslin washed away. The wolf king pulled away, a surprising soft smile on his lips as he watched Echo raise her tiny child hands to her face._

_Echo’s mother sounded on the verge of tears as she praised the Fen’Harel for the gift of freedom he had granted her child, and the wolf king accepted them graciously. Echo tried to thank him herself to be polite, and stuttered out the words brokenly. She even mispronouncing ’da’fen’ as ’ma’fen’, and while she remembers her mother‘’ horrified gasp…it was drowned out by the musical sound of Fen’Harel’s laughter. Echo raised her mismatched gaze to look the wolf king straight in his face for the first time._

_Fen’Harel and Solas had the same face._ The dream shattered and Echo sat up from a dead of sleep to wide awake in a second flat. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she stared at the quiet cabin feeling as if her world had been tossed upside down. “Just a dream. Just a dream,” she whispered, as if she said it enough it would make it so. 

But in her heart she knew, it was no dream. 

It was a memory. 

* * *

Meanwhile in New Harmony, Indiana the wheels of fate were not done turning. Not by far. In a blinding white room of New Harmony General Hospital, the only sound was the steady beep of the heart monitor. Tubes and wires surrounded the figure lying heartbreakingly still on the bed. Her dark hair splayed against the pillow, and her skin too pale to be normal. She looked like a classic beauty straight off of old portraits. Dark eyelashes laid still against her high cheekbones, and her small aquiline nose that was slightly turned up at the end. Her jaw was slightly squared, and belied a quiet, stubborn nature. Her plush lips had lost all their natural color, and had been parted by the breathing tube stuck down her throat. A young nurse clucked her tongue sympathetically as she checked the young woman’s vitals. The patient had to be only twenty or twenty one at most. It was such shame that someone with so much life ahead of them was now lying comatose with her vitals worsening each day. “What happened?” The new orderly asked, curiously. “Car accident about five or six years ago,” the nurse sighed, heavily. “The car hydroplaned right into a waterway. The girl was trapped inside of it for nearly ten minutes before someone was able to pull her free. I don’t know how they got her heart started again, but they did. She’s been here ever since, but it seems her body just can’t handle the strain anymore. According to the doctor, it’s only a matter of time before her brain ceases to function all together.” 

“Poor thing,” the orderly whispered. “Has her family been to see her at all?” 

The nurse just shook her head. “She doesn’t have anyone,” the nurse replied, softly. 

“Then what are the doctors going to do?” The orderly frowned. “Since she isn’t doing so well anymore?” 

The nurse looked sad. “We just wait. That’s all that we can do,” the nurse whispered, patting the comatose woman’s hand gently. The medical bracelet shifted revealing the patient’s name. 

_Cousland, Ashlinn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLANATION AND INFORMATION  
> 1.) Ashlinn and Echo are not the same person. They have different values, and personalities, and flaws. I know that sometimes that OC characters can end up being one noted if one is not carefully, so I wanted to reassure everyone. Here’s a little bit about the differences between the two women.  
> 1\. Ashlinn Cousland: she is fair yet firm with her decisions and judgments. She has the guts and strength to make the hard decisions, and make them in the heat of the moment. She can be downright ruthless when someone she loves has been hurt, and she will do whatever it takes to set things right, especially if it is her mistakes that needs to be righted. She knows the value of kindness, and knows a simple act of kindness can do much more than any sword. She loves hard, there is no in-betweens for her, but she is afraid of being abandoned and that if someone sees her heart, they'll see too much. She does not like to be touched, and has a lot of issues that she hides away.  
> 2\. Echo Harper: Echo isn't much for tactic. She doesn't like diplomacy, and likes to be brunt with the truth instead of dancing around it. She could be diplomatic if she has to, she just doesn't like to. She throws herself head first into the danger, and tends to act first and think second. She will do anything for her friends, and go to the end of the world for them. She can't stand seeing people hurt, and will avenge them if she can. She keeps her heart shield with humor, or with anger. She prefers to be the wallflowers, and she is afraid of being responsible for others. She is afraid of failing them, and she does not know her own self worth as she battles with depression. She is always searching for a place to belong, and feel at home. She loves cautiously, and is slow to let others in.  
> 3.) The song the Chantry sisters sing is a traditional Christian hymn, "Abide with Us, the Day is Waning" that had been modified to fit Thedas mythos. The song sung by Mahanon is "Answer" by Susan Calloway.  
> This is my cast list for the characters. I do have some alternatives for characters like Viviene (Grace Jones), Iron Bull (Vin Diesel), and Alistair. Scott Eastwood is my second Alistair, btw.


End file.
